Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

It gets dark earlier in these parts. California hit darkness at about 5 p.m. yesterday, so my usual drive to the mall on the weekends was unusually empty as my headlights creeped around in the night. It was a more peaceful drive with the softness of Led Zeppelin on the airwaves as I started my car. Once it was over, I scraped the night with some Dragonforce, although this time I kept the volume low.

It was a nice walk around the mall for about a half hour while I waited for Nikki to get off work. I searched for dresses I could wear to JACC, fidning one at Windsor that I went back and snagged today. Everything else was so overly glamorous, but they did attract my eye perhaps because of the angelic Christmas music in the background. By about 7 p.m., Nikki was out and we walked over to Wahoo's in the dark. It was quiet in there, with the surfer-esque atmosphere relaxing the mood. At that point, it was all conversation about men and women and all the like. We would pause for certain songs and talk about ourselves and how we always imagine our own music video for songs of which reflected on our lives. We dream of musicals of sorts, I suppose.

Coffee Bean--that was a warming comfort of me long-craved cafe mocha to my lips. It was more men, more women as the air chilled outside and the winds began tussling as though we were from the midwest, not Southern California. Nikki had quite the time talking about her boyfriend, who treats her well. I thought about my prospect--thought about him, talked about him, made Nikki smile at the thought. And of course, us being the ultimate compilation and dynamic duo, we laughed at all the same things, no matter how ridiculous. While we may not have recieved complaints, I could almost hear the annoyance of the other customers at our offensive language and sexual innuendos. But still, we almost kept it silent. It was just those kinds of nights.

Barnes and Noble was full of hilarious books and I pined to buy every single book in the whole store as usual. Some day I will own a whole collection--a library! And I will read them all at my own pace. I will have time. All things willing, it won't become a Twilight Zone moment in which my house burns down or I become a bitter senile old bat and cannot grasp my love of books any longer. On another note, I never realized how much bad news could be made hilarious through baby animals.

Nikki and I created more walking music videos with the power of the opera songs playing among us. And even when things could have turned in another direction, he stole my thoughts. I could almost hate him. I could dare to say I could kill him for this--but then what fun would life be? In all my previous confusion and coming out seeing clearly even in the darkest of nights of which I had long forgotten could come so early, this was my moment. These are my nights to hold again.

I know who I want to take me home.

Tellin' mother nature about you and me

Sometimes there are things only certain people know how to do and they do it at exactly the right time. But really, it's extremely rare. In fact, I care to say animals know how to do things like that better than us humans do. On some days when I'm especially worn, tired or dreamy-eyed, my dearest Ginger will look up at me as I am bent over saying hello to her, and touch her nose to mine and give me a single dog kiss wherever she sees fit. And some days when I come to the backyard to cry or mope around in the outside air, I will get a nibble at my fingertips. And some days where I am lazy or lonely, she will share her toys with me and raise a paw to me. Somehow, all of this means more to me than anything any human could ever do.

She is my little genius, who knows how to pick apples from high up by pushing off on a wall and sees no challenge in any "mentally stimulating" doggy toy. She's my little sweetheart who loves me and misses me every day of her life. She's my little blanket and shoulder to cry on who sits patiently as I wrap my arms around her and let a few hot tears touch her fur. She's my inspiration who gets me writing my greatest work. My love for her got me to write the piece that allowed me to be the columnist for my college's newspaper. She's my little darling who still gives me puppy eyes even when she is a 7-year-old German Shepherd. She's my sleepyhead who sleeps curled in strange positions, but still manages to get up and greet me with her half-open eyes when I go outside after a long day. She's my noble protector who still bellows her deep and commanding bark, strong and proud, and who will still protect the house with all her power because of her human-like sense of family and pride. She's my gorgeous little thing, still elegant, poised and stunningly beautiful despite her years. She is my life and love for everything she could give me and more. She is worth more than most humans could ever hope to be their entire lives.

Marching on 'til victory, we fight!

Oh, life. What a battlefield it is. Thus far, I have noticed that everything going on at the moment is, in essence, a brawl. Everything we could ever want is everything worth fighting for. Truth is, humans being the way we are, crave a good throwdown. Whether we are pacifists or aggressors--or not--we are bloodthirsty. Sounds contradictory, but it's not. Of course, this realization I found, comes in literal terms first and once geared for war, we start to see an epic and savage battle before us at all stages. I can hear hearts pounding. Let me commence with the adrenaline rush.

It started with the ANRA finals. It was a big pull to Bakersfield early last Saturday, with an eerie absence of cars all along the 110 freeway (and by the way, might I emphasize that California is entirely awesome because in class, to describe most phenomenon or drive a point home, we get references to major freeways because that's what most of us can relate to). I stayed up due to my stubbor desire to watch the sunrise whenever I'm up that early to make my way to a drag race. The dragster, now marked with the number "1" to show just how astoundingly my dad conquered the Nostalgia Eliminator I class from 2002-2007, had a horrible 2008 season. With the altercations to the engine being made, we encountered an influx of gremlins which devastated its performance and brought it nothing but bad luck for all races previous, putting my dad out of the running for champion this year. After the Hot Rod Reunion looked promising, my dad, uncle and grandfather took helm and really became enthused after it seemed all remaining problems were an easy fix. For time trials this race, an experiment was conducted, with the question being: What exactly needs to be done and how much nitro do we need once corrections are made?

The engine was properly fixed and at the thrid time trial, with a 7.57 under our belt, we ran 47 percent nitro all weekend. Despite it going over the index, a racer knows how much time is needed to slow that monster down to run right on the dot, which is what my dad did. Twice. In a row. 7.60 first round and 7.60 second round. The last few rounds were no far cry either with 7.62 third round and a 7.61 final round. Seeing my dad reclaim is glory in but one race made my heart rabid with excitement and let me know he would live up to his wonderful nickname "The Terror" once again. The spark of life is burning again. The fire still burns!

Similarly, human affection and relations take quite the struggle as well. Anthony, my ex, not exactly being suitable and hardly ever the affectionate-type--with me anyway--is no longer my idea of a boyfriend, and thus forces me to say I have not been the subject for physical attention (or emotional at that!) for about three years now. I had my eye on someone, as easily noted by many of my peers, but therein lied a problem most resembling mood swings, without the violence. Even still, the blows to my heart undoubtedly left a bruise or two. I know it was unintentional, but after intensely laboring under this person's looming shadow of a woman still longed for (that is, I was there and probably wanted--but there was another woman from his past that he probably wanted more than me). Eventually, I dropped to my knees--and stupidly, I still dragged them for quite some time. Little did I know, a day would come where the final blow would knock me out, and when I awoke, I'd be on a boat elsewhere. To put it simply, an anniversary, a beautiful memory or "your" song is amazing beyond words, but not when you're no longer with the person and the person who cares for you now is sitting on the other end of it, listening to your hapless woes.

I was amiss about my duties until I stepped in the newsroom and saw my blank pages open on my desktop. "...right now, you need to focus. Sit, calm down and do your pages. It will be ok." It was then I realized that if friends/co-workers had to lay their hand on my shoulder and referee these little heartbreaks when they weren't even directly involved, that it was getting too chaotic to continue on with them. I do wish I could have waited longer because the anonymous man in question is still intelligent, kind and quite a friend--but my beating heart could no longer take it and the underhanded "rejection" (which probably wasn't really rejection, but that is what it always felt like) was sending me into the ground. Maybe someday that path could lead somewhere, but at the moment, I was in a dark patch of woods; I needed a new road to go down. I felt down on my luck, and suddenly, I am still picking up my feet and following someone new. I finally feel that light and ethereal feeling I felt when I first started liking the anonymous man--and to my surprise, it really does feel great. I suppose I had just forgotten how it's really supposed to feel. Even in my casual, normal worries of losing this one, I have this vigorousness like that of a wolf, ready to sprint and spring on any possible enemies lurking in my territory, and I'm willing to sever any shortcomings before they bloom. If I were to look within my heart in a literal sense, I think I would be amazed at how it is still so vibrant and how its temerity is serving it a wonderful justice. I suppose I have learned how to tend to my heart, soul and spirit properly. Maybe with the pain I recieved, I was giving it reasons to be as it was. The fire still burns!

My current quest is that of my college newspaper. Upon us is JACC, Journalism Association of Community Colleges, a state competition in which we put out the greatest newspaper possible, making sure that no matter how heavily we bleed all over this paper, it comes up clean and perfect for the judges. Lovely? Why, yes, it is.

The issue comes out next Thursday and already I am embedded in stress and turmoil. Monday is my first deadline for pages--as I am news editor now, and boy was tears and hair-pulling not what I signed up for. Despite a miniscule staff, we have pulled out six issues so far. I should be proud, and believe you me, I am, but last issue was the greatest disaster than perhaps the San Francisco fire. Not to downplay a tragedy, but I say so to show just how terrible and sickly our publication looked last week. Lucky us that wasn't the JACC issue, because if it was, we would be in a world of hell at the competition. Things like that don't make for award-winning papers. It was a collaborative failure on everyone's behalf. I don't have much to say about this issue, which is a horrible thing! I should have lots to talk about--as in, which stories turned out well and which were terrible. But I only have one story in. And yet, I am passionately putting my hands in a plateau of great danger without a care in the world. Give me competition, and I am a wild animal in a race for some raw meat to tear through. I may have been in submission after the issue previous, but I will seek and destroy if I must to be able to commandingly put my foot down on the skulls of others in animalistic euphoria over victory along with my fellow editors. It seems like we are doomed if you were to see it at face-value, but I have never known the Union staff to turn over and die. The fire still burns!

He asked me to lie

And I told him the truth.

I was ready to post all this cool stuff and all my crazy ideas when everything came to a crashing halt. I met Kirsten today via telephone.
All I can say is...psh, I told you he was dating her. Even through that, as freakish as it sounds even to me, I bet somewhere in that big vacant space of his, something for me waits. One of my best guy friends said to me, it's either that he never loved me or he's too scared to love me, creating the almost indestructable idea in his head that he no longer loves me. Apparently, that's what fear does to a man. I wouldn't know because I'm not a man. And I don't think any guy who feels that way deserves to call himself a man either.

He asked me not to compare him to my other ex.
I did anyway because, fuck, he's acting just like him. Everyone thinks my ex prior to Anthony was all about going out with my best friends, which did happen twice, but they forget everything that came between and henceforth. There's was a lot of name calling and verbal abuse. There were other women even before my two best friends. They didn't last, but one of them hurt me in particular even though it was some insane love for a 14-year-old trapped in Ohio (also where Kirsten is from, ironically). Patterns repeat and as much as I'm ready for them, I somehow can't deal with it as planned. I'm aware of the differences, but all I tend to do is gather from past negativity and act upon that instead of working with what's going right.
And you know, she says she doesn't want problems with me. I guess I can believe it. There's no trust, just belief. But dammit if it doesn't hurt to hear her putting him in check the way I used to. Not that I put him in check 24/7 like a control freak, but it used to be my job...if that makes sense. She says she doesn't want problems. Honey, you're not as sweet as 'honey' would imply.
No. You're vinegar in my mouth.
Get out.

"It's okay. We're just dating. I'm not falling for her like that and she's not going to fall for me any time soon."
You said it yourself before...you're kind of a liar. This is the last lie you will ever tell if ever I find out it's a lie. At least be a friend. I don't expect him to lick my boots but I expect decency, you know.

"You're a scary lady. You became intimidating"
That's just what Andy said you were thinking. You know, Andy is exactly right. It shocks me how he knew before Anthony even said anything. According to him...when you feel you can't live up to someone, you shy away and feel like you're not in love, when reality the feeling is a lack of confidence and the thought that who you love deserves someone better than you.

I asked him if he was scared of me and he said no. I asked him if he was scared of love and he said: wouldn't you be if you were new at this?
I guess we really are on different platitudes. I've always known what I wanted in love and I always knew that it probably wouldn't perfectly fit the description I expected, but I've always known who was a right choice for me. If only people could learn to trust love and their partner...well, things would probably be easier. There are certain things I've yet to understand about myself, but as for things normal people don't understand, I seem to understand them better than most. It gets frustrating. It gets painful.

A complete 360 of emotion is never possible. I at times have felt that it was attainable because I was supposedly feeling it, but when I took the time to examine why it was happening, I realized it never happened at all. I was just numb and unfocused. When people are confused about who they are and what they're thinking, they never see the only person that can give them answers is themselves. So we sit around hoping the answers will just appear even when the big book of answers and definitions is becoming rust in our hands. The only thing that confuses me is him. When you have no other method of finding ease than to gather answers from another who is answering questions about themselves, hold on to faith. Any sort of faith at all. Trust me, the person you're waiting for will never talk.
It's a long day coming.
He's still silent.








You're gonna carry that weight.

Tonight won't be so long

I guess all the fighting drove him away.
Last he said was that he bought a ticket back to Ohio.
I guess I understand...Kirsten is there after all.
He says it's not about her, but who am I to dare to trust that?

I don't even know where to begin. I guess I'll break it down as smoothly as possible. I barely have the will to type this sentence, so I don't want this to take very long. I apologize if I drive anybody crazy.

It started with him saying he's going back because he was upset with all the fighting. Then he said he didn't love me. I didn't believe him and I had no problem being verbal about it. I told other people I didn't believe him, I told him I didn't believe him and I didn't have to tell myself I didn't believe him. I just didn't. That turned into a "you're just trying to convince yourself that I love you" kind of thing. But you know, it wasn't. I didn't convince myself of anything. I just instinctively didn't believe him. As much as he asked me to stop saying that, I can't. What else would I say? I didn't believe him. There's no way to lie about it. I didn't believe him. I still don't.

But I cried. Like a fool, I cried. All I wanted was to know why. Everyone says it wasn't my fault. Even he says it wasn't my fault and that he didn't want me to think it was. I had to have done something wrong...right? It's so like people to never know the answer to the stupid words that fall out of their mouth. It was the same plea over and over again for a while. I didn't do anything, I couldn't have, nothing was wrong with me. Yeah, save it. I don't believe things like that.

There were a few quotable things said, things that contradicted the first and things that couldn't stand very well on their own, but it stopped the tears. It didn't last, but at least there was a moment. I'll always have that moment. There was: "I fell in love too fast and I realized I wasn't ready for it, so I don't love you" and "You can't fight the heart" (You know what, reading that still pisses me off, so I'm going to say this: FUCK YOU. Then let me feel my own goddamn feelings, you ass. I mean, fuck, I love you and you said you loved me. Make up your goddamn mind and don't tell me what to fuckin do. You're the one who's in my life trying to figure out what I'm doing and trying to tell me what you're doing. That's probably one of the reasons I don't believe you. Fuck, I love you...take the good offers life gives you for once.) and "If I could have what I wanted, believe me, I'd still love you."

Idiocies. Little idiocies that crawl into the cracks in the skull and plays jump rope with the medula and treats the rest of that confounded thing like a goddamn Lucky Charm--you can run, but you can't hide. And even if it's a well-known fact, no one can fight it. No one. These confusing little broken up anecdotes attach themselves like ticks. You just can't get them off. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if these stupid little quips could give you Lyme Disease. I want to address them, but I just can't. For once, I don't understand them and secondly--I just don't believe any of it! I just don't buy it, I'm sorry. I wish I could and that would be that, but he's never been one to know what he was doing when it came to love. In response to that, I have decided to wait in silence. That being, I won't tell him I'm waiting and I'll move along as if I'm not waiting, but I'll wait as long as I can. At least there was one memorable thing about it..."it just seems like I'm easy to get over. Easy to replace."

No, you're not! You're freakin awesome.
Then there was something like a crash in his voice.
There was only silence our last five minutes together.
He said he was okay, but I couldn't tell for once.

One question, though: What on earth does "I love you, but I'm not in love with you" mean?
If you loved someone romantically and you stopped, then don't even bother with the "I love you"s if you don't love them anymore. Why bother, right? All of you men say it yourselves--you don't love the person anymore. So stop telling them you do even if it's "just a friend thing." It's never just a friend thing if you loved them romantically at one point. Don't play around. You know why you say it.

Somehow, though, I woke up ready to start my day off drowing in tears. I mean it. No thought had even gotten a chance to coherently pass through my head and I was already going to cry as if the cry that lulled me to sleep last night was "to be continued...." Then suddenly I knew something happened overnight. I have a feeling he thought of something he hadn't before. I just feel like things are going my way. I feel like I was right all along. I feel like just maybe love can be real for me. Maybe I can daydream without a nightmare.





Maybe I can learn to fly.
Maybe someday.

I hope she's sweet

If I really deserved the best, she wouldn't have been born.

Just as I suspected, the bastard goes to Ohio for a few days and there's already a bitch. Hearing his voice and knowing he came back for a visit made me get my stupid hopes up. Disgusting. I'm beyond foolish. I should've cut my own throat for that...not that hoping was any far off from it.

What's more, I heard about it from an 8-year-old. Anthony thinks he's so damn funny: "What were we talking about just now, Dylan?"
There it is.
There's the one person who could far surpass me without even having to know my weaknesses.
She already has my weakness.
"Kirsten."


Now just because he lacks any faith, confidence and sense of self-worth...I'm paying for it. Why the hell does he think he's doing me a favor by leaving? All I keep hearing is that he loves me but he's a bad person. Make up your mind, dammit! Are you bad or are you in love? They seem the same, but really there's a difference!
Be happy, be happy, be happy...well, I'm done trying to be happy for you. Understand that YOU made me fuckin happy! You made huge steps in changing your attitude, so much so that we honestly didn't have major problems in our relationship. I know you're not with the chick and I think you were trying to say the she's just "hot," not beautiful or gorgeous, but really, I'm done trying to read through everything everyone says. Can't someone just be straightforward for once?


Then we fought. Ahaha, the fighting....
There's was so much yelling, I thought I'd break apart. Apparently, I have no choice but to get over him because he's the bad guy. I know I can't force him to see anything in himself, but I just can't see how anyone could think love is a right/wrong deal. In love, we do a lot of things that are ultimately wrong, but we do it anyway. Sometimes there's regret and heartbreak, but that's just life. There's no love if you don't risk anything for it. But I know plenty of people who can't see that--they think love is perfect and that the only time love is love is when things are smooth. Love is laden with misery and chance. We just have to learn to take it all and carry it lightly on our shoulders. I know the world is cold and cruel. I know it'll turn its back in such an unforgiving way that it feels like it's killing you and ruining what you have, but we only accomplish the failures we worried about when we stop moving. So link hands, turn your back on it and run. Love, like life, is never perfection. Love is all the little sorrows and tragedies, all the triumphs and fluttery emotions, all the huge problems, all the wonderful memories and every superfluous fragmented piece somehow coexisitng in a way no one's ever seen. So if you're hurting and crying, don't say the love is over...sometimes it's just beginning. Don't hurt the one you love by thinking that way because of your lack of confidence or understanding of love. Most importantly, never say: "It should've happened by now."
My dears...love is never on time.

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Te amo, bastardo

It was one of those days where no matter how much noise there was, it seemed as though everything was quiet.

As if I wasn't stressed enough with deadlines and writing news stories, my ex had to be his usual self. I got a call about 30 minutes before my 1:30 class started. It was my godson, Dylan. He's eight years old. He was crying his little eyes out--something a godmother doesn't want to hear. So what happened? My ex forgot to pick him up from tutoring. While my godson is on spring break, he still goes to these advanced placement kind of tutoring things that keep him mentally stimulated since he's smarter than the other kids in his class. It let out at 11:30 since it's spring break so they're giving the kids a chance to relax. Me being at school interviewing my ass off and getting ready to run over to do one last interview before just barely making it to class, I had to call Aalyssa, his mom, which shouldn't have been my fuckin job in the first place. Good thing Aalyssa was just getting out of the doctor's office when I called. I asked Dylan to call back in five minutes, and him being a good boy, he did and he was calm. I stayed on the phone with him until Aalyssa went to get him and thankfully she lives close to the school where he recieves the advanced placement thing.

I figure that was the end of it. Why wouldn't it be, right?
Oh no, as soon as I'm done interviewing and trying to chill out in the newsroom, talk about parties to come, and be worry free now that the interviewing was over I get a phone call. I answered to Dylan's voice, so I figured it would be just fine. Turns out, it was godmother to the rescue. I had to yell at the foolish twit that fell asleep when he was supposed to get his godson. Yes, he fell asleep.
But you know why that was "good justification"? Because he was going to wake up in a few minutes!
When does that ever fuckin happen? Everyone tries to say that, but you know fuckin what? That's a sorry excuse! How can you fall asleep and expect to wake up in a few minutes? You're not Penn nor are you Teller, so don't try it!

But it gets better.
Somehow it was my fault. But that can't be. I was working. But somehow it was still my fault because "I'm always working." And you know...yes, I am! I write for a freakin newspaper! When I've got deadlines, the days become shit with stress and an overload of work. So finally I ended up telling him to suck it even though he supposedly does a lot of things for us (well, damn! He must be a magician because I don't see a thing!) and he hung up on me as if I commited a crime against nature because I called him out on his damn faults. I know no one likes to hear it, but when you do something as irresponsible as that, brace yourself because you need to hear it if you do that.

After that I took it easy with Cristian by going to Jack In the Box with him and having a big discussion about interests and life stories and whatnot. I realized that I finally have new friends that are much better than those I've lost. It was pretty chill and it turns out Cristian likes a lot of the same music I do and he knows Led Zepagain (as do I). It's eerie how much in common I have with the newspaper staff. I'm guessing it's because we're all journalists. I mean, with any field, it takes certain characteristics in order to truly love and partake in the field. That's probably what happened to all of us. What's even creepier is how much I have in common with Pearl...we even have the same coffee brewer and the same breed of dog. Trust me, the similarities run very deep.

I haven't talked to my ex since about 3:30 p.m. Last time I called Aalyssa, she didn't know if he was there or not. That, in some ways, relives me. In another sense, it leaves me pacing throughout my little stressed out head. Yesterday I recieved a letter from him saying the boldest and bravest thing that has ever come out of his mouth: "You deserve someone better, not someone who's a scared little boy." While he was trying to get me to turn to others and make myself happy, it only made me come toward him all over again. No matter his idiocy, he always manages to say something truthful and heartfelt. He even says it at the appopriate times, but the degree of depth to his words has the opposite effect on me, as it would to anyone else. What makes things like this so different from everything else is that when someone can admit to you their flaws and try to push you into thinking how terrible they are, they show so much courage and care, that there's no way anyone can resist. I'm sure so many people feel foolish for being melted by someone's honesty, but really--there's nothing that can fight it. If someone cares that much, how can you not care back, especially if you loved them?

Yet I somehow can't take my own advice. I'm embarrassed because I'm so used to immediately rejecting those that have hurt me so strongly. But that's another thing, there's so many magnitudes of hurt, and really, he's never given me that much pain before. Never was any pain I've felt so intense that I had the urge to completely destroy him and cut him down. I wonder if it's because of my feelings...but I don't dare go there.

It's closing time for me.
My mind can't take any more of this sort of thinking.
It's time to put everything back in order...if only I knew how.

I think I love that idiot.
How could I dare?
How could I not?
Can I spare an answer?
Or at least a breath?
An idea?
A thought?

Sorry, we're closed.