Showing posts with label guilt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guilt. Show all posts

13 June 2013

i woke up here, today

finally coffee & roses, a wide old stoop. nickey had to move out from the mansionhouse. I slept so as not to be too far away, ever. in a cornerroom, many windows, and I feel like all I do is mention windows. I feel like my relations are sort of bedlamy. there is no adjective for it, maybe. uproar, confusion? scenes of madness? it must be me, I'm the common denominator. ha ha it's all about me. when I moved to chicago I went to my first urban outfitters. wait... no, I went to an urban outfitters with my dad when I was 15 in bend, oregon. I was grounded so he forced me to go on a ski trip with him over springbreak, which was actually quite fine, we listened to the wall in the car and I read all of the lyrics, and I was like, man who knew pink floyd was so relevant, I just thought dead kennedys and anti-flag were relevant, and afi who helped me veer in later years to some emo place. we went to the urban outfitters, I had a meager allowance at the time though I doubt it was terribly meager because my mom gave it to me so it was probably pretty hefty. I mostly spent it on pot. but I bought a blue skirt with birds on it. birds on clothing and tattoos has been done for hundreds of thousands of years. it's one of those eternitrends. we went to portland, too, and I'd never been there before. britta was there, her brother bought me a pipe & a blue plastic bong (with my allowance). I named my pipe princess symphony and I named my bong sgt. bongo after my friend stacie. my dad let me drive the car awhile on the way home. I got ungrounded when I came back to boise. for a little while, like a couple of weeks. but in chicago I was never grounded again, so I went with this girl named cindy who I thought might become my best friend. she was like, Let's go to urban outfitters and I was like, Ya, that sounds pretty cool. we met a girl named mary who was with jean, who immediately became my best friend. jean told me a couple of weeks ago that she is pregnant. the year after I met jean we moved into a brownstone on kedzie blvd in logan square and she was the baby machine for halloween. she had babies all over her, and she was pregnant, and she had this phone cord attached to her and was dragging around this baby that we'd covered in fake blood. I was a dead bride. at the party I made out with two boys and fell in love with one of them. he was my best friend for awhile, but I was always terribly in love with him. at urban outfitters, the day I met jean, I bought a book called ALL ABOUT ME. you answer questions like who do you love what are your favorite colors, etc. I think I threw it away after I filled it out because I thought it was embarrassing. the things that don't embarrass me that should make me wonder, sometimes. I don't wish I still had it, I'm sure it was hopeful & maudlin & very, very teen. can I blame my parents? did they not teach me to think of others, ever? when I was a kid my grandmother told my dad that she didn't think that I liked her and my grandfather. my dad told me, and I felt this feeling I'd maybe never felt before. I think it was regret. I'd already felt guilt one million times. it was likely a combination of the two. from then on I tried really hard to show them that I loved them. I think it worked. I still can't imagine what I'd done as a child to make my grandparents think that I didn't like them. the thought makes me feel creeped. I must have isolated myself & never smiled. but what's smiling, anyway? when I moved to highlands elementary in the middle of 6th grade my mom told me that she thought I'd make friends at my new school if I smiled more. I thought that sounded like a reasonable plan, so I tried, I really smiled, I smiled a lot at everyone, I was friendly. but I didn't make any friends. in fact, I had enemies which I'd never really had. one of those enemies was kari, with whom I am temporarily living now. her friends monica & teri & jessica-marie would dare kari to do things, like cutting her hair and taping it to my desk and writing cryptic notes to me. I didn't know how to react to that, so I hung by myself on the playground. on the first day of school, the popular girls asked me to sit with them at lunch. I smiled a lot, but I was very shy. I tried not to be weird. jessica opened her milkcarton and asked me if I knew megan, who went to my old school. I don't think I could smile, then. megan was my archrival since kindergarten. jessica asked me if I thought she was a bitch. I said yes, I did. it was over for me with the popular girls. jessica would come to school and yell across the playground, Molly, I heard you dye your hair. I totally did but I said, No, I don't. none of them really talked to me after that. I stopped smiling pretty fast, decided again not to brush my hair. it wasn't very fun at the new school. I wanted to write stories and plays and have my friends act them out at recess like I used to do at roosevelt elementary. but all everyone else did was play tag. I didn't like running, or being chased, or feeling like I was losing. so I would go and sit on the hill and watch the two groups of girls who hated me. but they also hated each other. I would listen to them talk shit about each other. jessica would laugh at how kari was a cow and how jessica-marie was a stick figure. I thought it was mean, but that they deserved it. 

I've liked the album the wall for my whole life. it's one of kyle's favorite albums, we listened to it on the way back from raunchfest, we listened to it when he came to family dinner. I haven't been into urban outfitters for awhile, I tried to steal a bra from there but I got nervous and just paid for it. I also tried on some stretchy floral pants to make bikeshorts from one time, but there was mad blood in the crotch and I was so disgusted I just left without telling them. it did make me laugh. I feel like everyone then had a convoluted idea about who they were & we're a confused people, but it's all about us. 

22 May 2013

jerk

so I think the universe
  is trying to get something out
I think the universe
  is becoming an excuse
this is why a bar's a bar
  bc it gives me every drunk reason
    to blame
     the universe
poor innocent little universe! how small & helpless,
  what powers have you?
I'm a jerk
a terrible friend
a bad kid
kick me to the curb.
  I'm apparently waaaay too date to care
  too date to drive
  too date to be attentionful
someone else.
someone, somewhere else
  tall
  tall
  ugly
open the window
get me a glass of water
open up the compliments
get me those compliments
  you're just so well spoken & eloquent
    I like your face
      I like your smart
         I like your have-a-heart-that-feels
  I like your body.   give it here
  will you marry me? let's just kiss-away each other
  under the waxmoon
  by the river.
I used to love to watch the trees sway from my window
I don't really do that, anymore
  let's clear the room.
  tell me what you're trying for.
  tell me how instinct this is
  tell me how incest this has become.
someone else
someone
  else, tell me more
    blame me
      I'm a guilt
  tell me I'm cold
bc I'm a stonegirl
without all of the arms to hold your bones from shivering
  get impressed & sleep silent pretty
    and shock, then
           shock at my
    jerk

30 April 2013

wash


I first practiced devastation when I was six, it was a devastation determined by a crushing guilt. I would run a bath and sit in the pink bathroom waiting for the tub to fill, and the roar of the rushing water would ring my ears like two speakers switching on back and forth. I thought I was going deaf, I was deaf, I thought I could hear so well that the sound was damaging me. And during these moments my heart would rise up to deafen and I would feel the anxiety building and I would become weak and fall into a rush of panic, which I interpreted as guilt. Capital Guilt. I would try to calm down, sit on the edge of the tub, and would eventually decide that I'd have to stop the water from filling the tub so much. It was all I could stand. Before I learned that I had to stop the water, that I had to sit in a tub that would barely cover my legs, I'd run out of the bathroom to find my parents to admit something to them. I'd tell them only one thing that I'd done wrong. It usually had to do with saying the word asshole or pretending to fuck one of my friends. They'd shake their heads, confused, trying to stop my sob panic, assuring me that what I'd done wasn't so bad, really. I've never understood why I had such a debilitating guilt complex, I was only ever told to treat people well & to not lie to my parents. It was because I had secrets, and that to me meant I was a liar. Keeping a secret isn't telling a lie. Keeping is holding, knowing, treasuring, being inside of a self. Telling is exposing, pushing, forcing, demanding, active & obtrusive. But keeping can also be taking, stealing, and telling can be truthful & necessary & helpful. I'd like to hold & give over & over forever, but the feeling still shakes me away sometimes. I quit admitting, though. I haven't enough faith in that.

28 October 2012

things we talked about

eyes, colors, nausea, autumn, showers, blood, being Irish, come, stubble, being Turkish, being Canadian, lying, misuse, anxiety, border collies, language, love, fear, drinks, smoking, hands, feet, newness, comfort, guilt

just a couple of times