I didn't feel sick, but I definetly felt drained.  My body felt semi-foreign, like I was slowly slipping away from it in whisps of unseen smoke curling and uncurling, floating and soaring off to wherever my inner being thought best.

As I lay here, the reality of life sets in.  This has been a time of tension in my life.  The need to create, the need to do better, the craving to be beyond the status quo.

Not sick, just in that moment.  The moment where you need to stop and rest to gear up for the long road ahead.  

Spring Cleaning

20 minutes into a lecture about the US Food system I realised that my dream of a 100% self-sustainable art commune is going to take a lot more time and effort than I thought.

That's ok.  I'm learning that it's a journey, not a destination. I'm sure I'll get there eventually.

But first...I need to help me help myself and sort my life out.  I can't keep living the way I am.  

Fear-the voice of the zeitgeist.

There are some nights that I'm scared that I'm never going to get any further in life than this.  I'm scared that this is the glass ceiling.

Tonight is one of those nights.  My truck is about to be impounded and I haven't got enough to eat.  I've put in job applications but those are all minimum wage jobs.

I'm scared I'll never get to live my dreams.  Please let me be wrong.  Don't let this be the glass ceiling.

I feel like everything they told me would work in life never did.  College didn't mean a better job, it didn't make me any smarter or teach me anything other than how to party.  Drugs aren't all that bad (marijuana actually saves lives), and maybe getting married and having babies is a shitty dream to have.

I'm frustrated with life the way it is.  I'm tired of listening to my elders and tradition because in the end all they do is look down on me for wanting more than some phony dream.

In the quiet moments of early morning, I look at my life and realised...

I've changed.

All these buckets of rain, I've heard enough about.

You say that I lied.

I am a gentleman didn't I ask for a place I could stay?

What were we both thinking?

The next part just got in the way.

You were just always talking about changing, changing

What if I was the same man, same man, the same I always was?

All these things that you say,

like I'll forget about the mind-numbing games that you play.

I am a gentleman, didn't I pay for every laugh every dime,

every bit every time and then you feed me some line.

I won't hear one more word about changing, changing

Guess what I am the same man, same man, same man I've always been.

Days pass and turn into weeks, when we don't even speak.

We just lay wide awake and pretend we're asleep.

You go home alone and you're checking your phone

and you're looking at me like I'm something you own.

All these buckets of rain, you can't forget about it, you say I never tried.

I am a gentleman, didn't I answer every time that you call, pick you up when you fall

But you never listen at all

You were just always talking about changing, changing

Guess what I am the same man, same man.

Changing, changing

Guess what I am the same man, same man.

Changing, changing

Guess what I am the same man, same man.

"Changing" by Airborne Toxic Event

Fashionista

This could've easily been one of the greatest moments of my year and I wasn't thinking that this man was my favorite musician or that his music changed my life and now I'm actually standing with his arm around me.  I was thinking 

This is a nice ass jacket.  What the hell kind of leather is this?!?! Lamb-skin? It's really soft. And I wonder what kind of feather that is in his hat, looks like the ones they import from South Africa. I want to design clothes that go on this body. Clothes that inspire his genius.  I really want to work with this guy one day...

Seriously.  Fashion and work pop into my head.  Proof I need a job in the fashion industry ASAP, even if its as someone's assistant.

Changes

The last time I found this room comforting CDs were all the rage.

That lets you know how much times change.

Looks like times change and unless I do this will be the story of my life page after page.

Just because I'm in this room, doesn't mean I'm the same, just that everything around me is.

Times change and life goes on, 

Times change and spiderwebs grow long.

Relics of an age filled with hidden rage and the pain.

The screams of my name, bruises and rain.

But it won't be that way again.

A Hero Lies In You/Devine Moments Truth

It was easier than I thought.  I got there early even.

She was an older lady, pepper and salt hair, a serious look in her eye that translated into a blunt "the sky is blue so why are we debating it?" headtoss when I presented with excuses.  She was the breath of fresh air I desperately needed.  

Why can't you just...she asked me.  Your situation is bad but...that but gave me hope.  "I want to get out and I want to be gone for good.  I want boundaries this time."  I did.  I admit my mistakes, I let them shove me into this, but no more.

When we were done she looked at me and said You look like you'd do well in fashion.  Funny that's what they've all said, and I'm sure if I a lot more dedicated I'd make it in fashion.  I've been told so at least.  Plus regressed memories are great for inspiration (or so I'm hoping)

Sometimes nervous and excited read the same. Wow, that's what I blogged about last night, they really do under the vapor rumours.

What's Shpongle?  You're in for a trip lady...

If the Food Doesn't Get You...Nerves Will,

Choking down a bowl of Top Ramen and tea.  Eating has always been an issue for me.  It started when I was young.  Forced to stay at the table until my plate was empty, force fed til I puked and I was a picky eater to begin with.

Thinking about the past makes me wonder Which moment in life messed me up this bad?  Was it my cousin shoving my dirty underwear in my mouth when I was in elementary school? Maybe one of the times I was kicked? (Or "forcefully nudged" I believe was the excuse.) Maybe it was the years of disillusionment because I was 'black' but acted 'white?' Whatever it was, I'm sure the last straw was being dragged cross country against my will, and left with my African family for 2 months as they shamed my very existence because I may or may not be gay.

The noodles are disgusting, even after the bowl I just smoked.  Eating because I'm nervous about tomorrow.  My first therapy session.  Maybe I'm not nervous, maybe I'm excited and I'm misinterpreting it as nervous.  The same gripping feeling in my upper chest that wraps around my back, the same tingling sensation that feels like liquid glitter coursing through my veins.  My heartbeat is suddenly in my ears and my throat, ratting my body and causing my world to wobble slightly like bad TV.  Fight or flight responses engaged.  Usually I run, run away from the yelling, the hitting, the shaming, but this time I'm going to fight. Me and what army? Me and what TRIBë? Whoever they are, wherever they are, I believe I have people who will help me.  I have faith in this Universe.  My life has been strange, but its been beautiful too and it still is.

I'll be so glad to have the feeling the feeling that I am going to die gone.  Ever since that summer it's haunted me, like many other things.

I guess I am excited, not nervous.  Excited to feel hopeful again, to start to see a future for myself.  Most of my life I couldn't decide what to do with myself because I never really saw a future for myself beyond what other people told me to do.  I was more fickle than fashion trends (I'm saying was in the hopes that it changes and soon).  I'm really excited to have my bones stop creaking and snapping.  They've done it my entire life (except the year when I ran track)

Most of all, I'm excited because I have the chance to be someone I'm happy with.  I'm not really expecting anything more than to change eventually.

The Epiphany

I did 15 minutes of yoga.  I turned the TV off 15 minutes early, why? Because I wanted something different.  

Different feels like my body needed it.

I guess you're never too old for different.

Keeping Shit Real

After last night I woke up uncomfortably early.  I called the county number for Mental Health and after an hour and a half, I was forwarded to a lady who gave me the phone numbers for the therapists in my area.  Just doing that made me feel better.  I felt responsible for myself, like I was taking a stand for myself.

I know I should've done this a year ago, but better late than never.  I think if I had done this a year ago, I wouldn't have been very responsive to therapy.  This time last year I was certain my life was on the path to being epic in 2.5 seconds-no therapy required.  Now I'm still certain that my life is on the path to epicness, I'm just more for enjoying the scenery while I take the path.

This year I'm going to implement my resolutions slowly into my life, with the understanding that they are goals to be reached with hard work and dedication.

I have no clue why I was in such a hurry to get to where I wanted to be.  I guess I thought that was how life works.  Two years taught me otherwise.

But right now, I'm going to do a celebratory bong hit, some meditation, lunch and a walk.

Shit Just Got Real...

My truck is dead and I don't have the money to get it fixed.  That's alright though, walking gives me the discipline to get up and get to work on time, and gas is too expensive these days anyways.

I'd sit and cry about it, but I did that earlier.  If 2013 was the fairy tale, 2014 is starting off the exact opposite.  Oddly enough, I'm grateful.  After a year of fairy tale, I want the cold harsh truth.  I want someone to tell me plainly: how do I make what I'm dreaming about come true?  I don't want Mr. Perfect, or the best house on the block.  I want something less material: I want a career in the entertainment industry.  I don't want to be the singer or dancer or face of anything if I can avoid it, but I do want to be the person behind the scenes.

That is why this little setback with my truck won't end in tears again, I'd do better to save my tears for things I can't figure out, like how to find funding and for translating Hermann Hesse's "Narcissus and Goldmund" into a riveting stage play that parallels our times.

Tomorrow I'm calling my doctor for a referral to a life-coach and a therapist.  I really want change in my life, and I know that change starts with me doing things I'm uncomfortable with.  At first the idea of therapy really made me feel uncomfortable but I already feel uncomfortable.  

Like my best friend Sarah told me earlier today "You can do this."

I will do this, I will be better. I will do better.

Pain

This morning started out negatively-cramps so excruciating I was praying for death.  I try to avoid pills and medication, but the bottle if Tylenol 3 on the dresser stood there, offering relief from my monthly decent into hell.

I declined,  I would stick this one out, breathe the pain away.  And as if to show how foolish I was being, pain seized my body and I began to shake uncontrollably.  I shook so hard I slid out of bed, knocking my head on the dresser on the way down.  I couldn't move, I couldn't scream, all I could do was sit slumped against the dresser and give in to the pain.

Give in? That didn't seem right, but it did.  I was fighting the pain and as a result I was more aware than not that the pain was there.  It became my every focus, it filled the spaces that once weren't in pain.  It multiplied its intensity until it threatened to consume me, left me pleading for death, but scared of death at the same time.

So I did something different.  I sat with the pain.  I turned on my vaporiser and I let myself experience its depth.  As it washed over me, the sensation changed.  I was in pain, but I was the creator of this pain.  I had been fighting it like it was an outsider.

I learned a lesson in the quiet hours of the morning, the pain I feel from life comes from me, not elsewhere.  

Further Adventures in Shpongleland

Somehow I still manage to believe in fairy tales.  The magical mystical parts of life we've forgotten exists.  

It's not a firm hardcore belief that they exist roaming free around our world, but really they do.

They exist in the imaginations of people and therefore they're real. We live in a time where technology is so advanced that high school children can make 3D images that are so lifelike you'd believe they exist too.

I wonder what this lil guy does for a living.  What kinds songs does it sing? What are its favourite foods?

It looks like it belongs in an enchanted forrest. What's this guy's story?

I Want to Break Free...

I kept the TV off all day, stashed the phone and sat with silence today.  There was a faint feeling of agitation in me that I couldn't understand or describe.  I felt ready to pop.

The house was as silent as it was going to be.  Next door I could hear my brother's television.  

I wanted to be alone in a forrest.  Alone in the deep woods with the damp Earth beneath my feet. Free to get lost.  Free, that's something I haven't felt in as long as I could remember.  

I thought back to Arkansas and Mullberry Mountain, that's the last time I truly felt free.  I want to feel that way again.

Blue Dream

It's been a strange day.  Another one that I might look back in a few years and forget existed.  You only get 365 of them a year, and 9 days into this one, my life seems too small and too defined for my liking.

I want to draw, paint, dance, but today, nothing inspired me.  I felt brain dead and sick at heart.  What's next? Just another day and yet, another day closer to nothing, or at least that's what I feel like.

I want much more than this provincial life

Everything hurts.  I found a huge bruise on my leg, and now the pain is real.  Everything hurts. Today hurts.

I'm never hungry anymore. Just barely any appetite. I had a sandwich earlier, but nothing else.  Everything hurts and I'm tired.  My muscles are burning away.

It really is now or never.

I'm punishing myself really.  I have one dream that inspires me, but not any faith in myself.

The Arch of Time/Changes

I slept the day away.  Something about their presence drained me, more than the lack of food did.  Looking at these people just made me feel empty.  Their awkward movements, the plastic smiles on their faces as they took the liberty of showing themselves around.

No adult stopped for a moment to connect, they just grazed past, like sheep.  "Ariella, this is your aunt."  She said, over and over like a parrot on repeat.  Poor kid, she looks ready to run away, she lept into my arms quicker than I was expecting.  The younger one (who no one bothered to introduce) stared at me with eyes that spoke volumes.  She was drawn to this strange new figure in the blue hood, and as I reached out to pick her up she pitched forward with such vengeance that she would've fallen had I not been there to catch her.  She looked up and giggled, as if to thank me.

Now that she was closer her tiny face seemed intent on examining everything about me.  Funny, in my family the only people I can connect with are children.  They make sense in ways adults don't.  

She touched my hair, my face, my hood and my buttons.  She seemed to like me.  

My aunt looked at me warily.  "Time to go!" Thank Goodness.  My head started to pound.  I was starting to feel drained and lightheaded.  As I walked them out to the car, the little girl in my arms rammed hands into my hair, her gleeful giggles pierced the air.  I handed the nameless baby back to her father, and the giggles disolved into tears.

Her tears hurt.  So much so that I walked away before they were securely in the car.  My head felt heavy as I pushed open the door to my mother's room.  It was peacefully quiet, but the floor was cluttered with my art supplies.  I sunk to the floor, inhabiting the one spare spot on the ground.  My head hit the pillow and as I closed my eyes, a soft calming voice said to me

They do not fit in with me.  I am ambitious, not crazy.  My purpose is real.  They do not fit in with me.

I guess it was obvious all along.  You get so used to people being the way they are that you can't see them any other way.  You'd refuse to believe that there's a problem, but there is.

My parents are alcoholics.  My environment isn't always stable and I don't know where to go for help. There, its  out there.  I can't carry this for another year.  The wondering if she's dead, the long walk down the hallway.  Knocking on the door and being told "Not now, I'm getting ready for bed." Like I don't know that it's in your water-bottle.  My family thinks I'm crazy.  For leaving home and trying to get myself help, I was shamed, ridiculed and ripped away from the life I built.  

Growing up, there were times I'd wait after school until 8 or 9 pm.  I learned to just go to the library until it closed and in high school I went to my friend Amy's house and ran track.  I hid behind the illusion of a fancy house.  It became an identity, like life was great because we had the two kids big house "American Dream."

I want out.  I want out but I'm penniless.  In debt is more like it.  I'm 27 and I know I should be out but for awhile I just let myself believe that I was the problem.  I'm scared my family will just find me again once I leave and drag me back here because there's no one to stand up for me.

I know I have potential, all I want is help.

Tickling the Amygdala

Sometimes I feel disconnected to my own life.  Like I hover over the days that slip away, in them but not of them.  Things used to make sense and now life is a blur.  No one teaches me anything and yet it's there, expanding.

Archetype.  I'm one of those I guess.  The first and for twenty-something years, the only.  First one born in America, first one to only speak English.  I laugh, suddenly it makes sense.  It? Yes, isn't that the you used then? "The 'It' Girl." What is it though? An awakening of sorts? Vision? You never said, or maybe you did.

I guess I had forgotten.  Childhood.  Not guess, I did forget.  I thought that was normal.  I remember some things, but before a certain house it's all snippets.  I remember tea parties, I remember hills.  Most of all, I remember a school with a dome, and under the dome was art.

Funny, life makes sense. "Whatever it is you're looking for, I wish you'd hurry up and find it!" Said with exasperation at my seemingly untameable mind.  Smart? I'd assume so, they always told me I was, but I always thought they were lies.  I assumed everyone was supposed to be that way, that genius is something that could be shared.  I'm not sure where the idea came from, but its there.  It makes sense, special schools and classes, tutors and lessons.  Endless books things.  I found my old art supplies from when I was a kid.  Among them, a drawing compass.  I remember being obsessed with circles.  I would draw so many of them that the wobbly cheap compass would break.  So at age 8 or 9 my mom bought me a professional one.

"You've been looking for meaning

Did you like what you found?

Forgive me, I've been lonely

But it's not like I don't know my way

But I don't know my way..."

From where I'm sitting, my life seems almost pre-planned.  Like I should've known better, seen better.  You did didn't you?  I wonder how.  Lost as lost could be then.  Out of the desert and into the oasis of life.

"You see I would've killed Romeo and saved Juliet,

But I don't write stories that time won't forget.

Won't you pass me the kerosene, lets burn to the ground."

Balance.  Funny I thought metronome and you thought cheques and balance.  I can't fault you for it either. Its the one that's most open to interpretation after all.  Balance its always the B that gives it away.  Why?  Because.

Linda Evangelista, hummingbirds and trees.  Trees. Funny how Narcissus and Goldmund started with a tree, my life revolves around one anyways.

"I don't know where to go from here

Give me a new page

There are some things that never change"

Yet there are things that do.  

"NISWD"