The Maggie Wall

There’s an episode of The Simpsons where Bart and Lisa ask Homer and Marge why there are no pictures of Maggie in the house. Ultimately this culminates in Homer telling them he has all the pictures of her where he needs them the most to lift him up, work.

My cube is pretty much my Maggie wall, even more now that I’ve re-printed some old favorites with Jess and Aaron in them. I can’t physically see you guys anymore, at least I can have you here with me I guess.

I don’t hate my work or feel stuck in it nearly the way Homer does, but having these visual reminders of the times past and the people I made into my family helps.

Especially lately, I need em. I need youse.

Midnight

I’m going to put this here because I don’t know what else to do with it at the moment.

She’s really loud today. She’s angry, and mean, and biting. She wants to lash out that nothing matters and it’s all pointless so why bother making plans or trying to make connections anymore?

What’s the fucking point? All the lines repeating over and over. How I won’t be missed, how people move on because you’ve already seen it, how much easier it could be. Maybe you could hug your friends again and then just not exist anymore.

These days are hard and it’s getting harder to shut her down, to find the light.

I know I should reach out, but I won’t. I don’t. No one needs this person. No one needs THIS me. This is not the me that has any use.

The thing is even the me that might have some use won’t reach either. For the same reasons. I don’t feel needed/wanted/cared about enough for anyone to seek me and my continual not reaching out and not making connections only exacerbates that and I fall into the same thought cycle over and over.

I should probably try therapy again, at least try something, anything. I don’t know if it really helped before or if I deluded myself into thinking that.

Maybe that’s all anything is anymore, delusions to distract from the shitfest that is reality.

Does not help at all that finding the light in the world at large grows a more difficult task with every passing day.

I’ve always had a distaste for humanity at large, it’s only getting worse so it’s quite simple to turn the knife on myself.

I miss my friends. Not just the dead ones.

Steven Spielberg, it’s your turn again.

I’m writing this down with what little I can remember of it so I don’t forget it, again.

The universe brought you to me. I don’t need to know why or how, it just did.

I think Heather and I were at Denny’s. Smoking, drinking coffee, talking as much as we could because neither of us wanted to go home. For different reasons. As we did when we’d get to a point we didn’t want to talk any more, we started playing the Celebrity Name Game we did often then.

The game is simple. One person starts by saying a name of a person (we pretty much let everything roll, fictional and non) and the next person has to come up with another person who’s first name begins with the first initial of the last name of the previous one.

We could, and did, play this game for hours.

You piped in at a lull, and we just took you into the game. You moved your coffee and ashtray over and that was it. You were in.

Months later, I’d sit with you in the wee hours, keeping you company in a moment I just didn’t want you to have to live alone. That was it, you were my person from then on.

I hope you knew that hadn’t changed. I may have been mad at you for pulling away, for what I likely misconstrued as shutting me out, but had you come by even just to get your book that would have melted away in a second.

I shut you out too, I know that. We had a weird thing where we never wanted to burden each other even though neither would have seen it that way really.

Humans are weird. I miss yours.

Track Five

She jumped from one happiness to the next.
(You’re the only one.)
They made her smile (You’re beautiful)
until they made her cry.
(But I’m not looking to settle down.)
They broke her heart (This isn’t working anymore,) and her spirit (But let’s still be friends.)
Over and over again,
she trusted the fragments of her soul with others
(I’d never hurt you like he did.)
she thought they could fix her.
Once they inevitably abandoned her
(It’s not you, it’s me) she would end up
leaving with more of them than of herself.
And this is how a person’s own reflection
Can become unrecognizable.

Currently Listening To:
O.A.R. “Shattered”

  • Alicia Cook – “Stuff I’ve Been Feeling Lately”

The poetry thing is getting me through again, though as of late it’s rarely my own. The conversations we could have from this collection. Fuck. I miss you like mad.

The Gift

Give my love to my friends. 
You have to take care of them now. 
You have to take care of each other. 
You have to be strong. 
The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. 
Be brave. Live. 
For me.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer – Season 5 – “The Gift”

I did it. I finally fucking did it and of course now I wonder why I waited so long.

Fear. That’s easy.

There’s a lot packed into three little words and one punctuation mark. I guess I’ll start with the main inspiration, discovered by me on reddit not too long after Aaron. I saw a trend of people getting semicolon tattoos or tattoos with semicolon’s in them. That led me to https://projectsemicolon.com/ and I was sold. I needed a tattoo with this involved.

The project aims to remove the stigma of talking about suicide and uses donations to help organizations like themselves in their goal. Their focus and work with teens stuck me as that’s when my own struggles began.

After Aaron, I thought about that episode of Buffy, and how I sometimes repeat the ‘The hardest thing in this world is to live it it. Be brave. Live” part to myself. Seemed fitting. The idea was born to put the two together, but like all my other tattoo ideas, I’ve just sat on it.

Jess was the last straw. So fuck it. Really the phrase for me is a nicer version of ‘fuck it’. You get one life, live it. Be brave. Do cool shit. Also, completely acceptable to be at home living a chill ass life. All are welcome.

I fucking did it guys. Holy. Shit.

Another Early Morning

Not too many years ago, had this happened then, I would have written openly and often. Now, I don’t want to perform my grief for anyone. I don’t want to join the ‘who loved her most Olympics’ or prove to anyone who she was to me or who I was to her. 

Same with Aaron now. I sit with it. Feels like I should name it. Perhaps I’ll call you George. 

I don’t want the sorry. I don’t want the what happened. I don’t want the hollow nature that our social network based lives has brought. Ok I did the thing, now what? As though one post negates the years ahead of you and hours and minutes with your soul crushed adjusting to your new normal. 

Some people will expect a timeline. Others will beg for silence. The rest you’ll just make uncomfortable. 

I never hated her choices. I only wanted to understand them same as anyone’s. The what has never been more important than the why. 

I may bitch about all of our faults but end of the day I still love unconditionally and would go to bat for any of my people. 

Maybe I just don’t want to make more connections to be inevitably severed. 

I can’t take more of this. 

Maybe I’m scared that I’m reaching a limit and now It would be easy to say I want to be with Jess and Aaron. 

I don’t know

I’m pretty sure there’s a tiny little girl in my heart
Crying because all her favorite toys have been taken away
I’ve shut her in, keeping her screams at bay
I can deal with shutting her in easier than living without you
So here we go, another layer to the wall
Another dark joke instead of truth
Tears for some and stone for others
Shields up captain
Second star and straight on until morning

Fuck It

The storm felt pretty perfect this morning.

Fuck it. I’m going to say the things you’re not supposed to say because I feel like you’d appreciate that.

I’m pissed off at you. Right now. This moment. My guts are churning with a fire that’s more familiar than it should be and the worst of it is, you know why.

Here’s the thing of it though, doesn’t matter that I’m pissed. The feelings never mattered for long, we kept going even if it was just to prove someone else wrong or prove to ourselves that we could.

I wanted to be a safe harbor for you, a lighthouse in the distance to guide you to safety when you needed it before you drifted off to sea again letting the winds take you on your next adventure. I’m sorry if the clouds have been blocking me as of late, but know that my light was always on waiting for you to reach my shores again.

I wrote this of Aaron this year but it’ll remain just as true for you now – The stages of grief are bullshit. You’ll feel every one of them on and off from day to day, month to month, year to year. Monday I might accept you’re gone, Tuesday’s denial and Wednesday too, Thursday I’ll be angry at you and Friday I’m back in shock. Well, it is Thursday as I’m writing this so look at that, I’m a little clairvoyant after all.

All that matters and will remain is this: You were my person. You are my person. You will always be my person.

Dias de los muertos (amended)

*Updated 5/22/2019

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

The Crow

The days you came, the days you left, they’ll never stop being celebrated as long as I breathe.

January 16
March 1
March 2
March 19
May 10
May 19
June 29
July 8
September 10
October 19
October 31
December 20

Day 2, 2.2, Version 2.0…Fuck I Don’t Know

You were always a magnet for people, sometimes you seemed to be the sun and we were all just planets in your orbit. Maybe that was just me. Maybe that was just Denny’s in the the early 00’s in general.

I’m reading all these people’s words about you. Some I recognize, many I don’t. All I can think about is how much did they know you? How much did I know you?

You had a wall, I knew that, but the veneer was magnetic to a degree I always envied.

I thought I was a stable port for you, a lighthouse beam to guide you back when you needed it. Never wanted to keep you, you hated that shit, you needed to be free. Just wanted to be something you could hold to, recalculate and head back out to sea.

Fuck. I missed you already, waiting for you to come back to shore…and now…I guess I’ll turn off the light.

saor ean

God dammit Jessica.

I’m saving all your LiveJournal entries right now. I can’t bear to read them but they are the only writings of yours I can get to with ease aside from emails and I need to do something.

I told Marty I had an urge to go to Petosky. Are you there? Is that why? Even if you were, you wouldn’t stay there long. That was never your style.

I want to be mad at you, but I also get it. I get it to a degree I wish I didn’t.

I guess it’s my book now, huh?

You got my dark humor like no one else. I’m trying to find a joke here but I can’t do it. This path is too familiar and I don’t want to ride this ride anymore.

You will always be my person. Always.

I hope you’re doing this right now, and I’m fully aware that I’m probably deluding myself into thinking of such a thing but it’s the thread I’ve got to hold on to right now so let me have it.

Go with the hot pink. I love you.

In the key of me

I’m overwhelmed when I think about how much music has been made and will be made in the future.

This becomes especially true when I think about how much music has affected me throughout various time-frames in my life and how certain songs get embedded with people.

I told a friend via email this morning that I think I want to start a list of the albums that really fit my life at one point or another. Mostly so I don’t forget them.

This album right here is one I haven’t given a listen in probably a decade+ until I saw a beautiful boxed vinyl set of it. I owned this album twice I loved it so much. First on cassette and then on CD.

I dig finding new music to feel connected to, but there is something at home and comfortable in revisiting the stuff that I obsessively listened to long, long ago.

Idea to Execution

Practice

I can’t imagine my words tattooed on people’s bodies

I can’t imagine my words slathered on canvas

Where will they go when I am gone? 

Where will I go when I’m gone?

The words are me

The words aren’t me

Practice.Practice.

Process not perfection.

Do it, do it, just write the words

Let the thoughts go, let it come out

How hard can it be?

You’ve forgotten little star, when the words mean

So much to you, that they are you

Letting them out is like splitting arteries

Laying your nerves bare in the hot sun

Process not perfection

Practice. Practice

The words aren’t me

The words are me

Where will I go when I’m gone?

Where will they go when I’m gone?

I can’t imagine my words slathered on canvas

I can’t imagine my words tattooed on people’s bodies

How Can I Hold On

You could say it’s been a banner fucking mail day in my household. I’m not sure if you would share in the sheer joy I’ve held or if you’d make fun of me.

Marty and I jammed a bit, I’ll give these another full listen during some lone time later on.

For what it’s worth, I’m eternally glad we were both at that concert, even if we didn’t know it until years later. Miss you.

Year Five

There are so many things about grief we don’t talk about. So many tiny elements in our minutes in the after that go under the radar unless you’re also living them. 

There is a connection felt with those who carry loss with them. Our atoms feel each other. 

The stages of grief are bullshit. You’ll feel every one of them on and off from day to day, month to month, year to year. Monday I might accept you’re gone, Tuesday’s denial and Wednesday too, Thursday I’ll be angry at you and Friday I’m back in shock. 

Other people live in a timeline where there are limits for your emotions around your loved one. Fuck that. You feel whatever you need to feel when you need to feel it. You’re not wrong for laughing two days after you lose someone and you’re not wrong for being a blubbering mess years after. 

You’re never the same after you lose someone. Death changes you. Your life becomes a time before/time after split. It sucks. 

Memories you make after get this really fun new layer of guilt with them because inevitably you think at some point ‘man, I wish X was here/could have seen this/done this/existed in this moment’.

There will be an insane amount of pressure from outside forces to move on. You may tell a therapist to fuck off for suggesting that you accept and release a loved one from your daily thoughts. 

You will hurt. Mentally, physically, emotionally. You’re going to feel some shit. You’re going to learn to carry it with you, you’ll earn the strength to do it, but it’s a bitch of a journey. 

Closure is complete bullshit. 

You’re going to find comfort in very unexpected places. Embrace the comfort no matter where it comes from as long as it’s not hurting you or someone else. 

Your last moments with them alive will replay in your mind. A lot.

Life events and milestones will be bittersweet. Places you go will have a tick mark of before and after.

Woot offs are never as fun.

You will find an exorbitant amount of things in day to day life that will remind you of the person you lost. This may lead people to question why the sight of BAWLS suddenly turned you from a smile to looking like someone kicked your puppy. 

Slurpees will never taste as good. Giant pickles and pickled sausages will have more emotional weight than such objects probably should. 

People will play grief Olympics a bit. Let them, you know how you feel, love is not a show you have to prove to anyone. 

You’re going to feel numb sometimes and raw others. 

Meeting new people who have never/will never know your person is weird as hell. You’ll never feel like you describe them effectively or give their personality justice. 

You may buy movies and never watch them purely because they remind you of them. 

Explaining your person died doesn’t get easier. If anything it gets harder to hear ‘I’m sorry’ or worse yet no reaction at all to this information.

Sometimes, you’re just going to need to throw up. 

Anyone that judges your grief process deserves swift removal from your existence. 

What you lose with that person will sting. You will learn things and be pissed you cannot share them. You will hear songs and be pissed they will never hear them. 

You will wish you had taken every ounce of knowledge from them you had and saved it to a million hard drives for safe keeping. You’ll wonder when humans will get cloud backups. You’ll laugh because you know they’d see the security flaws in that and hate that you even suggested it.

Loss is loss. There is not a scale for worth that differs between friends and blood. 

You will blame yourself. You will reply conversations wondering where you went wrong. You will blame others. You will blame yourself for not noticing the mistakes of others. You will blame science, religion, existence itself.

Nothing you do or that you learn about them after will really change the love you hold for the person that died. They earned it. They get to keep it.

Everything really is pretty fucking awful. 

Music will run the gamut between healing and breaking you all over again.

The dead never really leave us completely. The indents in our hearts they built carry on in every tiny thing that reminds us of them.

Traditions will continue or be built from the ashes. You’re so special you get two holidays in my life now. 

You really don’t get over it, you don’t even get used to it. You just learn to survive it. 

You will cherish every hug you ever shared. Especially when it took years before you had them in the first place.

Still waiting on my email from the afterlife. If anyone would figure that out, it’d be you.

You will miss sharing a sink with the year of vanity. 

Concerts will never be the same. 

Cliche bullshit will become amusing.

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

I miss you, Aaron. Always.

Another Long December

“the smell of hospitals in winter” is a lyric I wish I didn’t feel so akin to. I can feel that one in my bones.

I keep saying to myself ‘you need to write again’. ‘You need an outlet or you’re going to break’. Yet, the words falter every time I try. There’s such a sludge of things blocking my ability to articulate. There’s also the knowledge that I’ve gained over time that words have power and if I don’t wield them carefully they will betray me.

What I feel in a moment of passion, be that anger or joy, defies the reality behind those feelings. Haven’t been very astute at expressing either of those things in years. Everything has a haze and it seems to build the more I build a wall around myself. I’ve lost track of who I’ve built this wall to protect anymore. I thought it was everyone else, but maybe it’s really been me all along.

All the things that have been hard that I don’t talk about. That or worse, joke about in attempt to dull the depth of the pain that actually comes with them.

Everything boils down to the same jester I’ve always claimed. Human Eeyore at her best. Never wanting to be a bother, but eternally grateful for any thought or attention granted. Sometimes at her detriment. Always wanting to see eye to eye with another, to make a connection. Twist and shake in the bits that fit, glimpse the real when it’s safe. Close the door again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Dias de los muertos

Assured that the dead would be insulted by mourning or sadness, Dia de los Muertos celebrates the lives of the deceased with food, drink, parties, and activities the dead enjoyed in life. Dia de los Muertos recognizes death as a natural part of the human experience, a continuum with birth, childhood, and growing up to become a contributing member of the community. On Dia de los Muertos, the dead are also a part of the community, awakened from their eternal sleep to share celebrations with their loved ones. https://www.nationalgeographic.org/media/dia-de-los-muertos/

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

The days you came, the days you left, they’ll never stop being celebrated as long as I breathe.

January 16
March 1
March 2
March 19
May 10
June 29
July 8
October 19
October 31
December 20

X

I’m not one to shout any accomplishment I make or even acknowledge that I’ve attempted to do something but…this one feels worth saying something about.

I quit smoking 10 years ago today.

Driving in to work this morning reminded me of the one change in my body that has made the frustration in the process worth it – my voice. I can sing again like I did in choir as a kid. I’m not great, but just that I can do it is enough. There’s always been a stupid hidden power for me in singing to myself in my car, alone in my house, but don’t ever ask me to sing in front of people. Not gonna happen no matter how often I’ve daydreamed about being a badass frontwoman.

I joked in my usual way in an Instagram post this morning that it’s nice to have a reminder now and again that I am capable of change when I actually try.

That’s the kicker though isn’t it? You actually have to try.

Forgiven

You know how us Catholic girls can be
We make up for so much time a little too late
I never forgot it, confusing as it was
No fun with no guilt feelings
The sinners, the saviors, the lover-less priests
I’ll see you next Sunday

We all had our reasons to be there
We all had a thing or two to learn
We all needed something to cling to
So we did

I sang Alleluia in the choir
I confessed my darkest deeds to an envious man
My brothers they never went blind for what they did
But I may as well have
In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son
I had one more stupid question

We all had our reasons to be there
We all had a thing or two to learn
We all needed something to cling to
So we did

What I learned I rejected but I believe again
I will suffer the consequence of this inquisition
If I jump in this fountain, will I be forgiven

We all had our reasons to be there
We all had a thing or two to learn
We all needed something to cling to
So we did

We all had delusions in our head
We all had our minds made up for us
We had to believe in something
So we did

~ Alanis Morissette – Jagged Little Pill – Forgiven

Daily Tarot – Monday April 30th 2018

I have no idea how I’ll actually title these if I do this daily/when it strikes me.

This morning, in part because I was waiting for my work machine to do some junk and I work at home I decided to use the GoldenThread Tarot app I recently loaded a try. The app does two things very well from what I gather thus far. Daily card pulls and larger spreads you can either do completely with the app or from your own deck. I’ve decided since the daily pull is part of it that I will do that every day regardless, but that when I can I will also do a daily pull from one of my own decks. Mostly just curious how often the two will vibe off each other and to see what insight/thoughts the meanings can give to my day.

So, let’s roll, shall we?


GoldenThread Card

III of Pentacles Reversed

Key Phrases: lack of teamwork, disorganized, group conflict, competition

Meaning: Missing camaraderie and collaboration is highlighted here. Where you should be working together for the service fo a greater good, there seems to be some disorganization fo self-interest that is getting in the way.

My Thoughts: Work was absolutely on my mind when I pulled both of these cards today. There’s been some animosity brewing and I fear my own actions and inaction are just making things worse. I’m feeling not the same tension I did that made me want to leave my last position but an overall tension and twinge that maybe what I really want to do can’t be done so I’m stuck here in this circle of seeming success while inside I’m still just a dumb kid that wants everyone to get along.


Universal Rider Waite Card

IV of Swords Reversed

Key Phrases: restlessness, burnout, stress

Meaning: All of life’s struggles have been hard on you, and yet you continue to push forwards without giving your body and spirit time to rest and recover from the challenges. Not allowing life to defeat you is important, but it is also important to take a moment of peace, so you can move with more energy for the days to come.

My Thoughts: I took the weekend as a hermit weekend hoping the excessive time by myself would recharge my soul a bit. In some ways it worked, but as I noted to J today my body got rest but it doesn’t feel that my brain or heart got very much.


I don’t really want to go too deep with all this but I will so both cards made me laugh out loud in a nervous ‘well, fuck’ kind of way.

I don’t know that this is something I could viably do every day, but when the cards strike me to, I will.

If nothing else, this gives me new instagram fodder and I’ll take that any day.

All by myself

I’m having a week. Thankfully with J @ B’s for the weekend and the fantastic understanding human that is my best friend I am spending this weekend as a hermit to process and try to re-charge myself for the weeks to come.

There have been moments this week where observation has left me really hurting in a way I haven’t felt in a while. I think I’ve spent a good portion of the past four years a bit numbed to everything as a survival mechanism and I’m trying really hard to let myself feel things. The hard thing in that is that I don’t just want to feel them and let them lie there…I feel like I need to SAY something instead of just letting things build to my inevitable volcano that’s become my trademark.

I’m not even sure where to start, because actually being completely real about what I have going on in my sphere rolls into places that are not mine to share. Gone are those days of LJ where I would just spill and apologize for it later (or never). I can say this much, I am feeling some shit and I don’t really know what to do with it. I’m conflicted in a number of ways, enough that I write sentences here and decide not to move forward with them because it still admits too much and I just can’t do it. Not out of fear, but out of empathy.

I’ve spent a lot of time today dicking around the house but also considering where I am, where and who I’ve come from, who I’ve become and who I want to be. Existential crisis? Probably, but TBH I’m probably overdue for this type of shit.

Maybe that’s what’s driving me to want to learn tarot again. Something to give me focus other than on my own insecurities and inevitabilities that I’ll have to face. Trying so hard not to think about the people I’ve disappointed this week, or annoyed just by existing. Feeling the exact things I’ve dreaded coming to fruition.

Think I’ll try to study some of my tarot book before I call it a night. Maybe one more round of Monster Prom.

Personal Projects

Things remain generally awful in that ‘I wish I could take this away for these people I love, but I can’t so I’ll just love them’ kind of way.

In these times, my brain shifts to weird ‘leave your mark, say your piece’ type project ideas. I don’t know why, maybe it’s a brush with someone else’s mortality, fuck if I know. Maybe it’s because it’s easier to say the things to people/about people that you love in a roundabout art way than actually just saying ‘hey man, I love you’ or ‘this is why this stupid inanimate object means so much to me’.

So, projects.

I’ve been telling myself since we bought the house that I should put all my most prized items in a fire/waterproof safe of some kind. Most people would assume such a container would be saved for important papers and things with monetary value. Mine? Aside from some assumed paperwork I have notes, pictures, trinkets and concert tickets that need to be preserved. Those are my prized possessions, above all others the last card I got from my grandmother. These are priceless commodities to this heart. Much as I want to make that shadow box for Aaron, I’m more tempted to put his belongings right in there as well. Squirrel away all the things that once touched a loved one or emotionally touched me.

Part of putting those things away is documenting what they are, how I got them, and why they are important enough to be placed there i the first place.

The other project is not so tangible, but still worth it I think. Hardwick talked on one of the Nerdist casts eons ago about a playlist project he started for himself many years ago and still does. Each New Year’s Day he creates a new playlist and adds to it through the year songs that he found that year that he enjoyed or songs he listened to in general that year that triggered an emotional or memorial response.

I’d like to take that project with my own little spin and make friendlists. Playlists with tunes specifically tailored about or for my homies. They’ll probably end up with more songs than could go on a mixed CD, but fuck it. Someday maybe I’ll share them with them, maybe not.

These have been your random ass thoughts from the resident redhead who’s at hopefully the tail end of a cold and feeling like she needs to channel her nostalgic ass into some sort of tangible result.