I sometimes wonder whether I'll ever really get to a point where I have everything in line, and then not have it all explode.

I'm really sick of trying to be positive day-to-day when life just seems to love to see me crumpled in a ball.

I've been working so hard just to pay tuition each month, get through beauty school, and make my way in the beauty industry, but after this past weekend I'm having trouble even getting up in the morning. I can only work so hard, and have so many other factors fall down around me before it all just becomes too much.

I worked hard, long, and through so much bullshit at Bruster's only to be shit on by the owner, who is rarely even in the store, and views all his employees as simple numbers, and not as people. It doesn't matter all that I've done, all the extra time I've given up, all the drama and problems I've put up with. It's all just never enough.

Taking the high road is what I usually do, but after yesterday being faced with the possibility of losing my chance to finish my license in a school I dearly love, I'm not even sure how to react. I don't want pity, I'm just tired of making so many sacrifices for everyone around me, and never really getting my chance.

I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach Saturday night as Scarowinds ended, knowing a job I truly loved was coming to a close. The first job I've had that gave me a real taste for the future I so desire.

I don't know what I'll do if I'm forced to drop out of school. It's my one reason to wake up in the morning right now.

Is it so hard to just let me get along for a while, and make something of myself?

I'm trying my best to stay positive with all the chaos surrounding my life right now. As hard as it is, I'm worried most for my father. If he finally succumbs to stress and falls apart, I don't know how to pick up that many pieces.

As for my mother, while I fear I am becoming her in alot of ways, as always my best friend knew what to say. While my blood may whisper her name, it will not repeat her errors. I've lived enough for two people in my life, and know what it is to scrape my knees and learn from the fall. It need happen only once. I love that I have her smile, and her sense of humor, but her faults can lie in peace with her ashes.

I have a new job, which is a good thing. I'm a supervisor this time, so hopefully I can effect some positive change needed for my new crew. It's an uplifting thing for me to try to work towards some new direction for now.

Pouring over my makeup artist magazines and photos the other day, I know that all of this stress is just temporary. Hearts will heal. Scars will fade, and I will ultimately find L.A. as my home, doing what I love, with people I love.

What's most important now is the present, and I am presently needing to buy a new pack of cigarettes.

I think I'll start there.

There's nothing quite like waking up to the sound of your father crying, when the only other time you heard that sound was once before, very long ago.

My family is crumbling into pieces, and how perfect it is that I happen to be here to witness the fall out. It's not completely unexpected, to be honest, but the crashing anger and ultimate goodbyes hurled yesterday will echo in my head for a long time. I can still feel my blood pumping, my hands shaking to hold them apart, the rush of his heart under my hand and I tried so hard to force him to the door, to keep him from making a terrible mistake, trying to keep their fists unclenched. That, and the feeling of surprise when I opened our door to the police.

There are certain words I never wanted to hear, certain heartbreaks I wished I could keep from those I love, but this is life. There is only so much I can do to stop the inevitable.

I'm packing my bags. Now, it's time to come up with a Plan B.

So much for a homecoming.

Portland has been the new breath I hoped it would be so far. It’s allowed me alot of time of introspection, examining what I really want, and really allowed me to plan out things better.

Of course, with release there is always the pitfalls. I once again found myself trampled by someone I considered a good friend. Honestly, did I get the words "fuck me over" tattooed on my head and not realize it? There are only so many times this shit can happen to a person in a short period of time without giving up on people all together.

At the end of the day, karma will come back to her, I hope. Sorry I’m younger than you, and haven’t completely fucked up my life like you have? At the end of the day you’re a fucking divorced-shrivelled-husk-of-an-overaged-goth-kid and that’s not my fucking problem. Sloppy seconds? Really? I wouldn’t be talking since I’m not the one chasing boys half my age and getting shot down. No one is going to marry me? Fine. I can accept that you think that, but at least I’m a fucking genuine person, versus a two-faced lying bitch who got her husband to dump her

That kind of outright cruelty and bitchiness only serves to show me that maybe I put myself out there too much for people. I try to be open and approachable, and ultimately, I’ve been destroyed.

There are the few friends I have who I know break the trend, and I love them dearly for that. I just needed to say this. They are the constant good in my life, besides my job, which I love dearly. I won’t let her ruin that for me, not in a second.

The wisps of smoke rise around my fingers in a sensual coil, like past lovers' fingers just barely caressing the surface of my skin. Heated, luxurious, and ever poisonous.

The echoes of the night before ring in my ears as I watch the palm fronds sway in the breeze, just like my memory. Just like every stability in my life.

"Loneliness is the human condition"

I re-read the words for the fourth time in my life and know their truth to the marrow of my bones. The words now brand themselves on my skin with the heat of pain, so much hotter than the end of my cigarette.

I'm almost tempted to reach for the sharp edge in my purse, opening my wrists again, the veins popping like seams. Old scars beckoning a caress like an old friend.

Ever the smoldering phoenix, bursting into flames with every sunrise. Hoping for a hug that will mean something. A sentence with no ulterior motive lurking underneath.

Such is life; everything cherished as flimsy as a coil of smoke.

Here's an excerpt from a story I've been working on for quite a while now. It's been up and down, and I'm trying to focus more lately. It's inspired by various women I've known throughout my life, and all the broken pieces of them put together in one.

Let me know what you think.

---------------------------------

"I got you a Danish. You should eat more, Hun."

I shake my head out of its haze and look to see Laura return with our coffees and a couple of Danishes on plates, sliding mine across the table to me. I looked at the peach colored confection with the spot of mottled raspberry jam in the center, and thank her for the trouble.

Laura begins to tell me about the latest saga between her and Matthew, a claims adjuster she met at a bar a couple of months back, and with whom she had been having a very messy relationship, with even messier sex, on and off since.

"I mean, it's not like I'm asking him to marry me or anything. I just want him to be exclusive, you know? I don't think it's a lot to ask. We're pretty much great together if he would just remove his head from his ass. Sometimes I worry it may be too much to ask. That fucker." She says this last part half-heartedly. For all her threats, we both know their relationship wasn't going to change anytime soon. Her sentence trails off as she lights a cigarette, inhaling the smoke with a curious look of thought across her face.

"Why do I bother?" she says more to herself than to me.

I shrug, but she isn't paying attention to me anymore. She's more concerned with turning her half-hearted anger onto her Danish. The pieces she's tearing it into seem to get smaller and smaller as her cigarette burns away.

I look out the window to see a young woman leaning on the arm of a much older man approach the entrance door to the café. She is thin, not much shorter than the man she is accompanying, with overly-highlighted brown hair, wearing an above-the-knee jean skirt with a ragged hem and a pink tank-top, with sequined-gold flip-flops. The man is wearing a button up white dress shirt with blue pinstripes, khaki slacks, and is nodding towards the young lady as she speaks. He must be in his late forties, while the woman on his arm seems barely legal. They are laughing, and she ruffles the thinning hair on his head when they approached the counter to order.

"Would you look at that?" Laura says. "I mean, come on. They're not even discreet about it."

I wrinkle my forehead. "Discreet about what?"

Laura frowns at me. "Oh come on! You've gotta see it, right? She's a whore!"

Laura says this last part in a harsh whisper, her eyes sliding towards the couple. She must think she's sly, but her judgment practically radiates bitch waves. I sip my coffee and poke at the Danish. Some jam gets stuck under my fingertip, and I nibble at my raspberry-flavored fingernail.

I look at the girl, then the man, and back again. They could pass for a father and daughter, spending quality time together on an early afternoon together. She could be leaving for college, and this trip is one of the few times they'll have together for a while. I mean, they look happy, standing at the counter, the girl smiling at the man as she wraps her hands around the warm coffee cup. The man pulls a twenty from his pocket and hands it to the cashier while the girl picks a table in the far off corner directly opposite Laura and me. I'm afraid Laura will melt the cheap plastic flip-flops the girl is wearing with the heat of her stare, making her stick to the floor, completely immobile so Laura can stare harder.

Laura's assessment and subsequent judgment wasn't completely off the mark. I knew as soon as I saw them, but optimism is tricky. The way the girl sat down with her legs spread, then crossed them towards the man, nudging the hem of his pant leg with her frosty-pink painted toe made me think she wasn't wearing panties. The way the man leaned in to tell her something, grazing her neck with his mouth far too closely on his way to her ear. It was obvious, but for once I wanted to believe in innocence again. Instead I found myself shot down again, stabbing the Danish with my fingertip, licking at the raspberry sauce like blood as it coated my finger.

"I wonder if old guys actually taste old," Laura wondered aloud. "Like, does their cum taste stale or something?"

I wanted to tell her it didn't. That the taste was just the same, but then I thought all men tasted stale in some way. I knew if I shared this bit of wisdom that would only open the flood gate for more probing questions I had no desire to answer, and so I stayed quiet. That was one of the things I loved most about Laura; she was one of the few people left in my life who knew little to none of the torrid details of my sexual past or present. I found her to be a great departure from my own reality, so completely I became engulfed in all her "issues" whenever we were together. As long as I was willing to remain and hear all the fluid-filled details of her weekends, and split a bottle of wine with her when it all went to shit, our friendship was solid.

"I bet he pays her extra to swallow. He seems like that kind of pervert. Matthew would never imagine trying to get me to do that. Fuck that. He's lucky I like him enough to blow him at all."

I heard her voice fade out of my conscious as I looked out the window at the passing traffic. It didn't matter if I listened or not. Laura was going to talk anyway. What bits floated into my ears let me know that simply by her assumptions about strangers' sex lives, her relationship with Matthew seemed great once again. I wondered how many relationships lived and died by vicarious blowjobs.

With my coffee long gone, and the Danish looking like a murder victim on its plate, I want nothing more than to go, to block out the reality of this girl and this man sitting across from me.

She has no idea of the misery in store.

The days and weeks turn to liquid, flowing into one another in an endless stream, inundating me in the sense that the top may be just out of reach. Practicality, in all its patronizing glory, leaves me stuck in the everyday, far from any sense of belonging, any sense of unconditional love.

She always did hate to see me cry, and I her. It's amazing, the gaps and cracks within yourself you try to patch with all the unworthiness in your life, only to find band-aids on bullet wounds, the blood seeping through the bandages long ago. My work is all that matters now, the brush strokes only going so far.

Tis the season for despondancy and the knowledge that when night falls, I am, as will always be, alone.

It's the end for me in the bay. Fitting, as alot has gone down in my time there.

It never ceases to amaze me the pain I allow other people to inflict on me. I should just make that my next tattoo idea - "Hi, I'm a doormat".

I guess I'm just tired. Tired of being used, of being the one who cares for everyone else and never receives that in return. Truth is ever elusive, especially in others.

I'm sitting in the back seat of Alex and Lidia's car right now, driving back from our week in So Cal. All I can feel is a tightening in my chest. In spite of all the good times, it ultimately leads to the point where I'm at now and need to escape - no direction, and no one left to care.

At the end of the day, my knees may be dusty from falling upon them so much, but at least I still have the strength to pick myself up again. Fuck all the rest. My worst tormentor is always myself.

l'amour m'a déchiré de nouveau.

Torn again.

This weekend was absolute insane fun. There's really no other way to put it. So, instead of simply telling all of you of my many mad adventures, I can show you too!

OK, so Friday Lidia, Natasia, and I headed out at about 11:30 pm and I drove all the way there from Nor Cal taking about 5 hours to reach Disneyland. We got to the park as soon as it opened at 8, with me and Lidia fueled by Red Bull and other things I won't list here.

Disneyland owns. I don't care who you are, or how old you are - it rocks. We had breakfast at the Blue Bayou, a restaurant inside the Pirates of the Carribean ride. We hit up all the main rides early, not having to wait in line more than 15 minutes, and then met up with Remy and Emielle from Ratatouille! So cute.



After that we spent time in Fantasyland, picking out pirate rings and catching more rides. But of course, I needed to find Alice and the Mad Hatter. We headed out to Main St. and found out where she would be at what time. Holy hell did I book it when I saw the Hatter's hat bobbing along. I ended up playing musical chairs with Alice, Peter Pan (who Lidia totally called out as a pansy when he called me a pirate because of my tattoos, haha) and it was so awesomely fun.





I got so many compliments that day about my Alice tattoo, and the Hatter and Alice both loved it. When I took the pic with the Hatter, since Alice was with other little kids, Lidia takes, the first photo and Alice straight turns and goes "Can I be in the picture as well?" in her little voice. So cute! However, I look horrible in that pic, so we'll leave it out.

Since my stalking was complete it was now time to stalk Lidia's fave - Jack Sparrow. We headed over to Tom Sawyer Island and caught and awesome pirate show. Afterwards, we had to search the island for half an hour to find out where Jack was going to be, and when we find him Lidia keep him in conversation for ten minutes, pissing off the other people waiting in line to meet him. So funny. When I walk up, he goes "Are you going to argue with me for 5 minutes as well?" and I go, "No, I don't talk as much as the other one." He straight up laughs and goes, "Ah, good woman. I like you already."



After that it was straight up hitting all the rest of the rides we missed, watching the parade (in which the Hatter and Alice waved to us and winked. It was cute) and watched the stars come out over the park as the fireworks went off that night. Lidia and I were delirious by the end, having been up for 38 hours, walking around Disneyland for 16 of those hours., while Natasia was just super sleepy and started laughing hysterically at just about everything. When we were in line for the Buzz Lightyear ride and a really really goth kid walked by, she straight up lost it.

We rode the Indiana Jones ride twice, joking about playing "chicken" with the ball on the ride was the best we were going to come to immitating Bruce Willis playing chicken with a fighter jet in Die Hard 4.



We headed back to the hotel and passed out so hard. I'm pretty sure an atomic bomb could have blown up next to me and I wouldn't have budged.

The next day we got up and drove to Hollywood to hit up Swingers for breakfast (omfghardcoremilkshakesmmmmm) and I got to meet Rico, one of Lidia's So Cal friends who was rad as hell.



This is my face after too much hardcore shake. Ugh.



After that it was time for KAT VON D'S SHOP!


(PS - I blue Beetle reflected in the glass is my new car! I got a 2001 Turbo VW Beetle and named it Remy after "Ratatouille")

The shop is GORGEOUS. I wasn't sure what the policy was on pics, since it's so tinted on the outside, so I didn't shoot anything. I found out how to book Kat, and saw Chris Garver, who is an amazing artist as well, but I had no nerve to say hi. The funniest part of our visit though, was who decided to visit that same day...



Yep. Jeffree Star.

So ironic considering all the shit me and Lidia talked about him.

He was actually very sweet to me and Lidia, and was really laid back. I really think we got to see Jeffree, versus the character of "Jeffree Star" that he outs on for people. I asked him wasn't he doing some signing at Warped Tour after talking to the lady helping book appointments and he seemed kind of surprised for a second that I knew who he was, given I didn't freak out walking in upon seeing him. Realizing I wasn't some over-excitable scene kid made him totally cool talking to me, and I have to admit, I'd totally hang out with him on Warped. Very sweet guy. I ended up with two Kat Von D hoodies, her appointment email, someone else's email, and a huge fucking grin on my face.

After that, Lidia, Natasia, and I headed out to Universal Studios, where Natasia went off to visit a friend, and Lids and I went on to the park.

Universal Studios was way fun. I got to meet Dracula upon walking in...



Blah ah ah!

...made fun of Lidia's height...again...



and got super pissed off on the studio tour. Why? you ask. Remember the Munster's house? Remember how awesomely spooky and goulish it was?

Well, it's now a part of the set of Wisteria Lane on "Desperate Housewives". Here's the house now -



HOW MUCH DOES THAT SUCK?

Yeah. Really.

After that, we headed back to the bay around 11, somehow ended up at what I swear was the So Cal version of the Bates Motel looking for gas, and made it home in time to pass the fuck out again.

Anyways, now I'm back home in Oakland. Deathguild tonight. Lots of gothy dancing (hooray!), more tattoos this week (searching for an artist to finish my Alice piece), job interviews, shooting a wedding Saturday, gearing up for Warped Tour next week, Blaqk Audio shows, and...

A BIG ANNOUNCEMENT OF IMMENSE AWESOME SOON TO COME!

I miss all my East Coast lovelies, but damn, after only two weeks, this really is home out here.

Cheers.

The first of three sessions it will take to finish. I'm loving it so far. The photos totally pale in comparison to how great the shading is in real life.

Warped Tour tomorrow. Hit me up if you're going.