Freedom

Rae helped me out last night with an impromptu demonic photoshoot.
I had put dark purple shadows under her eyes and colored chapped nude lips on her *and* though she was actually drooling on herself, I snapped this one where she looks quite lovely.
Sort of, trapped inside her own body, sparring with her demons...
Well, today I got home rather early because my class was canceled.
I was going to sit it out and go to Math 107, but I knocked my pop can and Shasta pepsi was soaking into everything. Me, the seat...
And I said,
"It is not my day today. I had better retire."
I returned home and accidentally let Bartholomew out. And accidentally didn't even notice that he had escaped.
It is an unusually sunny day for January (GLOBAL WARMING!) so I can't blame him really.
I discovered that he was gone, and ran outside.
There he was, sniffing my mother's dead African grasses and frolicking quite joyfully.
I didn't want to drag him back into the stuffy little studio, so instead I let Charlie out too, thinking that I could handle two at a time. Thinking that I would just let them have turns.
Bad idea.
Charlie kind of shrunk into himself and hid by the grasses.
Bartholomew was considering escaping the yard and venturing off. I could see it in his sharp yellow eyes.
I tried to capture him and let Firenze have a turn. Instead, all of them ran out and into the bushes.
Poor cats, they really are quite smart, but can any kitten resist the lure of a swashing stick?
Mine couldn't. I rounded them up and locked them safely away.

Then the sad part.
Charlie mewed pitifully at the door. Firenze joined. Bartholomew, normally so silent, also began to squeak sadly.
They pawed desperately at the front door, begging for freedom.
I had to ignore it.
Three unfixed male kittens who don't have their proper vaccinations can't go running off.
I still felt bad.
:[

I'm getting old...

Happy 2010.
I'm turning twenty this year. That blows my mind apart...Seriously, there are grey matter shrapnel bits all over my comforter.
I suppose in the spirit of this mighty drunken non-holiday I will make a few (late) New Year's resolutions.
1. Lose ten pounds
(yeah, we've been saying that for about six years now...)
2. Finish The Attack of the Chocolate Eaters illustrations.
3. Finish Mediocre.
4. Get my A.A
5. Buy a house
6. Get a job
7. Record "Forgive my Intrusion"
Boring stuff, I know.

Lately I've been modeling quite a bit for random photographers. It's actually pretty depressing stuff.
I feel like my soul is leaking out a little more with each snap of the camera shutter. I found a depressingly over saturated and blurry photo of myself on Craigslist today. What an honor. I made it to freaking Craiglist guys.
The ideas for shoots that are proposed to me are dull and inane. (Not always but often.)
I'm constantly reminded to look "sexy."
I've got news for me, I'm not sexy.
I might be attractive. Or quirky. Or even pretty...
But I am no flirty babe. Not even a little.
To top it all off? I get no monetary compensation for it all. Just awkwardness and mild humiliation.
I will just keep slugging away though. My goal is to use modeling to pay for cool trips. I'll have to have a pretty rock solid portfolio to pull that off. So I will take the drudgery from now on without complaint.
We are making great strides in music world. I've made up more songs, Nick and I can play together in harmony. (HAHA...pun)
School starts tomorrow. Let's hope Nick leaves me a few cigarettes so I can make it through.

Devil Cards

http://velveteenflower.deviantart.com

I was recently gifted a deck of tarot cards. I have always thought them (and anything spiritual really) to be tomfoolery and nonsense.
However, the readings I received from my friend Darien nearly changed my mind.
If nothing else, I have yet another weird interest to pursue.

Clive Barker, get out of my dreams!

image courtesy: http://eastmonkey.deviantart.com/

Nightmares more like. I took Seth to school then went back to bed around eight thirty or so.
At first I couldn't get warm enough to sleep, but I was too tired to face the day, so I just laid there.
That's when it all began, one of the most lucid, freaky, and disturbing dreams of my life.
Gary, Kendra, and I went to Fairchild Airforce base to visit Haley. When we got there, only Eileen was around. She stood behind the kitchen sink watching us carefully. In the guest room, several Chucky sized dolls were lounging on dressers and shelves. I picked one up and the ribbons securing its hat together came apart. Something about the doll was creepy, so I had the urge to put it down.
Eileen screeched at me, "You fix his hat!"
"Okay," I said, "but where is Haley?"
She didn't answer, just kind of growled and went away. I searched the house for Haley, creepy doll cradled in my arms. Periodically I would attempt to put its hat to rights.
Finally I became frusterated with the strings and I told the doll, "Fuck you, I don't want to fix your stupid hat."
The thing smiled and its eyes glowed with an unholy yellow light.
"Okay, sorry! I'll fix your hat!"
Then it opened its mouth in a vengeful grimace, revealing little pointed teeth.
I ran back to Eileen, " Can I do something else for you? I can't fix the doll hat."
"Sure honey, if you play with this one."
In her proferred hands a large beak nosed and sharp chinned clown doll sat.
The thing opened its garishly painted mouth and cackled a little.
Suddenly my hat situation seemed more tolerable.
"Nevermind! Don't worry about it.."
I ran back to the guest room and tried to get Gary to drive us away.
He stood with his back to me, staring at a wall. I prodded him and he turned.
An unearthly growling noise came from the back of his throat, I fled the room, throwing the creepy doll against the dresser.
I sprinted down the hall and fled through the front door. My feet were bare and I could feel the cool touch of the dewy grass. I pushed hard. My breath came out in gusts, my legs pumped...
But running, I realized I was dreaming.
"Wake up!" I yelled to myself.
I felt very heavy, my eyelids refused to open. I kept trying to wake up, but sleep dragged me down like an anchor.
Okay, I plotted, I can just dream about something good if I have to stay asleep.
I began to jerk off, laughing at whatever malicious spirit had trapped me in a nightmare.
Somehow, I turned into an even bustier caramel skinned woman who was completely nude.
Then a miniature hog, with burnished and gleaming tusks, descended from the ceiling. It was making awful squealing noises.
It landed by my downstairs and began gnawing giant chunks of flesh from my vag area. Swallowing them whole.
I screamed and writhed in pain, then grabbed the pig thing and crushed its skull in my hands.
"WAKE UP!" I yelled at myself, to no avail.
Next I looked out my window at a hideous old woman wrapped in a cloak, her eyes were milky white with blindness, but she was staring right at me.
I had had quite enough, I felt around for my eyelids, and pulled them apart. I still felt like I was drowning in an ocean of warm sand, but I caught a glimpse of the room through my slitted eye.
WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP! It was my mantra as I tried to shake off the dreams.
Finally, my room came into focus. I then sat in my bed screaming for several minutes.
I rolled over eventually and called Alec, eager to report my nightmare to him.
"Hello?" Alec answered brightly.
" Are you real?" I asked, not quite believing my good fortune.
"Yeah, I'm real...why?"
I then explained the whole nightmare to him in detail.
The nightmare made a perfect replication of his voice.
I hung up with him, then Nick walked in the door. And RaeAnne. And several people I didn't know. They had the inspired idea of hooking up eight or ten wagons and riding them through the streets.
I thought the idea was stupid, so I wandered off alone.
The scene was a ghastly greenish yellow, the sole illumination coming from the street lights. I caught sight of an orange cat.
His fur looked like a myspace picture with the saturation turned up too high.
I followed him down the lane and through a velvet curtained alley.
It led to an odd hallway with a large cage at the end.
A tag read, "Thanks to the humane society, we are saving animal life."
Inside the cage writhed a miniature menagerie. A mouse, mother and child, were fighting off a tiny goat that wanted to devour the baby.
On the upper level of the cage, two kitten sized horses squirmed about. One had the others thigh lodged deep in its throat. It looked very uncomfortable.I watched this cage, transfixed, until it started to hurt my stomach to look at.
I then returned home with the orange cat in tow.
On the way into the house I reconvened with Nick, another cat, and RaeAnne.
Once we let the stray cats into our home, they transformed into large Mexican boys who were flea ridden.
"Oh." I said. "You can use the shower...if you'd like."
I saw one of the boys scratch and a black thing catapulted to the floor.
"Thanks!" He grinned, then sat on my bed.
Yuck. I cringed inwardly, feeling loathe to do laundry before I got to sleep in my bed.
I left the room and returned, (A big feat since our house is only one room) to find it devoid of all my belongings.
What?
"What happened?" I queried Nick.
"We were robbed." He informed me calmly.
"Who did this?"
He shrugged.
Then I woke up, for real this time. I feel like I have run some marathon.
Weird.

Post #70 (We're tired of having 69)

http://hoschie.deviantart.com/

I am plagued by sleepless nights. I lie in bed, feeling sardined by the sandpaper-y wall, countless pillows, and Nick.
The comforter, a gift from Grandma Collins, weighs about fifty pounds. I always feel that it is constricting me like a giant flowery-rectangular snake. (If snakes were flat I suppose.)
Add three kitties to that mess, purring, licking my face, occasionally biting or scratching.
Anyhow, it's a wonder I ever sleep in this bed at all.
I am not a heavy sleeper. I do not fall asleep easily or quickly. Even as a child I found it nearly impossible to nap.
So, my troubles with insomnia are growing.
I just researched the condition online and found out some of the culprits to my trouble with sleep.
1. I am a woman.
(Women are twice as likely to suffer from insomnia.)
2. I had two cups of coffee around seven p.m.
3. I smoked several cigarettes tonight. The nicotine is apparently a stimulant.
Great.
One of the reasons I can do nothing about, short from seeking a sex change.
The other two are my favorite vices. How can the Mayo clinic expect me to give those up?
My dad was being quite hilarious tonight, petting my sleeve to make his over sized black lab whine with jealous rage. Father kept saying, "Good Ariel!", very loudly. It was very demeaning.
He then began calling people "bastards" and "sons of bitches."
We ate meatloaf and browsed Ebay.
Nick and I went to Winco. I wore stripper heels and towered over him. I read him Chapter 8 of Eclipse. I am really getting the whiny Bella voice down.
Well I best be getting off to bed. Though I don't really want to relive any of my nightmares from this morning. I was sodomized by Eminem AKA The Real Slim Shady in front of some gangsta thugs and Alec.
He pretended to be really straight so the ghetto gangsters wouldn't kill him.
Next some random man and I were going on a vacation.
I said, "What are we going to do with the cats?"
He said, "Don't worry about it."
He went outside for a couple minutes with the kitties. He came back in without them.
"What did you do with them?" I inquired.
"Haha, they're having fun in the drainpipe." The man said ominously.
I jumped off my bed and ran outside, found a sewer grate in my mom's driveway and ripped off it's cover.
Bartholomew swam pitifully to me, but Charlie and Firenze were not there. I pulled Bartholomew out and reached my fingers into the slimy dark water, my hand ran into two soggy furry lumps.
I pulled out my kittens and began performing CPR on them, though it was obvious that they were dead.
I'm sure if the dream had continued it would have featured me returning to the house and slitting that man's throat with a kitchen knife.
On that happy note, goodnight loyal readers and friends. :]

Fever Dreams

image courtesy of: http://paranoyiqzz.deviantart.com/

It's been an odd week. Nick was absent for most of it, I visited Spokane, delivered court papers, met new people, and (as always) cleaned up cat shit. Haley and I enjoyed New Moon, coffee, and the Haunted Airman. We were conned into running around the tube/play thing at the Fairchild Airforce Base's "Funspot." Natalie had an insatiable need to plummet carelessly through the sticky plastic tunnels. We ran after her again and again trying to prevent head injuries and broken limbs. Kayden bashed Haley in the nose. Rob and his faithful companion Roberts had abandoned us to go bowling.
Funspot indeed. I drove home through torrents of snow on Sunday. It was rather nerve racking. But I made it.
I hung out with Laurren on Monday, going on an epic death march that lasted three hours.
On Tuesday I stopped in at my Dad's house and we watched "Tommy Knockers." It was tremendously creepy. We also hung around the Walgreen's Redbox late at night and watched the cracked out apartment dwellers sulk about. My dad commented, "Looks like I need to bring a gun down here, Walgreen's is turning into a ghetto!"
Wednesday I spent hours with Gary, watching half a movie, conning pharmacy techs, and buying more sub-par Roaster's coffee. We had a great time, and I realized how much I missed spending time with him. I left at around nine p.m. to catch up with Alec.
I thought it was weird that he hadn't called, and I had been checking my cell phone religiously, waiting.
At ten, he and Lauren came over.
I'll admit it, I was miffed.
Okay, I was genuinely irritated.
Wasn't I important anymore? I had just read a heartfelt entry in our shared notebook about the importance of our friendship...
And then they came over.
Lauren, very uncharacteristically, was quietly staring off into space. I queried her, fearing something had gone terribly wrong.
She giggled.
Ahhh, you're high, aren't you?
Suddenly the night made more sense to me.
We got in the car and drove to the sweet sounds of, "You're full of Stuffing Mr. Femur." A mix that I had burned just for Alec's return.
After about an hour of Rae's house, where the inhabitants also got stoned, I drove us home. Lauren claimed that she needed to be home.
Awkwardness followed, but I'll sum it up with, they left my house and lied to me to smoke more dank weed.
I'm over it.
And really? It's at least partially my fault that everyone gets so evasive when they want to do illegal and exciting teenage things.
My tone is so condemning.
Anyhow, I still hung out with Alec the next day. (After the Thanksgiving festivities.)
On said holiday, I found myself delivering court papers decreeing divorce to my soon to be ex-stepdad. I can't say I enjoyed it, but when you're poor, fifty dollars can be very enticing bait. I then journeyed to my father's to spend the majority of Thanksgiving with him.
My dad's house was relatively normal, as I was accustomed to his wife's relatives and her four children. I mostly hung out with Gary.
My head started throbbing midway through. The noise level was startling. I suppose life as a hermit hasn't prepared me for the sound of screaming babies and over-excited adults.
My brother, if anything far more reclusive, felt much the same way. We left and stopped by my mother's house to make the rounds.
The impending divorce left her weepy and drunk.
I spent about an hour there. It felt like a long time.
I called Alec once I had escaped.
And I met his new car, a prissy looking fancy thing with leather interior. I have no doubts that my Buick could eat its face off.
We smoked, which was odd, I am so used to hearing him cough on each tiny drag. This time he blew the smoke out in gusts, without a single hacking cough.
The times are a changing.
We had a blast. I won't chronicle it any further because he already has.
And Friday was the dance party.
I cleaned the house as soon as I woke, and set out to install my christmas surprise for Nick. Alec helped and we migrated to DQ and then the Shiloh inn to hang with DJ Ricochet. It was lame and hilarious.
Lauren and Alec spent the night, I slept on the floor. The dance was rather fantastic as I lost another pound or so with my freakish moves. I rock at dancing.
In the morning Lauren left and Alec watched me fight with Nick over the phone. Sad, considering that Charlie was finally coming home that day and I had tried so hard to make the house beautiful and full of Christmas spirit.
But when my love (and fiancee)came home I hugged him and we made up.
He even went to New Moon with Alec and co. I was grateful, sitting in the darkened theater, that two people I loved could overcome the awkwardness and enmity to spend time with me. I didn't take it for granted at all.
I cried because New Moon's audience was ridiculous and kept gasping about the rather fugly wolf dudes overworked chest. I find muscles vaguely repulsive. I prefer men with slighty less obviousness.
All the shiny pecks and deltoids on the planet could not make said actor's voice sound more grown up though.
Anyway, I tried to continue hanging out with Alec, but as we drove around oogling the mostly dark houses that occasionally were dotted with one glowing strand of x-mas lights, I began to feel rather awful.
Alec and Rachel were trying to one up each other with the scandulous story hour, and Nick cringed every time Alec mentioned a dude's name. I sipped sparkling cider from the glass bottle.
Then the cider exploded all over my hat, lap, coat, and thermal.
I decided to call it a night after that.
When we got home my condition had worsened. I was shaking with imagined cold, and my forehead burned.
It was awful. I dreamt of Edward Cullen, and combined his story with Peter Pan's in my dreamy head.
Clap to summon Mr. Cullen the succubus.
Clap if you believe in fairies.

I woke up and felt a little better.
Am I dying? I've been sick for three to four months.
This is getting out of hand.
Well it has been a lovely week. And I have about three school days left of fall quarter. So here I come winter vacation...

We suck young blood.

I wish I could still walk around outside at night.
Ever since my brief encounter with that cross eyed sex offender, I feel nervous and rabbit-like whenever I try to walk the night.
It used to be my favorite solitary activity. The streets fall silent, my feet scrape the pave, and the eerie glow of streetlights guide me nowhere.
I used to journey too far, with just the company of my thoughts.
I haven't been eating this weekend.
I had half a donut this morning and a few strips of beef jerky for dinner.
It's easy to slip back into this life, the life where I am alone. Without Nick, I get strange.
It's only been three days.
But he keeps me in the real world, in the saner kinder part of my head.
Alone, I revert to my old habits, the chain smoking, the vague listless days and the wandering nights.
I go on random and endless drives to nowhere.
I look in the pantry and think about cooking something, then get too tired to follow through.
Instead I lie in my bed with all my clothes listening to mournful music.
Instead I smoke and smoke and smoke. As much as Robert Pattinson in "the Haunted Airman."
I hope Nick comes home soon.