3 days, no cigarettes.
1 month, no pot. Really, longer.. given that it was only 2 puffs and before that was some time ago. Probably when Jonathan's band played at the 4:20 festival on campus.


Anyway, I'm reading Albert Hofmann's "My Problem Child".
Pretty trippy he died at 102... ;O)

After a lovely night of movie rentals (including my new favorite, Across the Universe) and outdoor fires, I started to sink into a wonderful nights slumber- equipt with the window open for a cool, Colorado's night breeze and the nice lullaby of chimes.. until I hear a much larger animal ripping apart a dog, in my yard, directly next to the open window. After the killing, and my frenzy of screams and slamming windows shut and making noises to try and keep 'it' away, I lay back down. Then the crunching of leaves and my visitor has come back to finish it's dinner. And this time I am shaken back up to the insanely loud, powerful and agressive hiss (hardly a 'meow') of a fucking mountain lion.

Remind me to not go out past dark anymore..!!!

It's like beauty and the fucking beast.

This is sloppy and not thought out. But I want to explain myself-even if no one asked for an explanation or even if no one cares. This is probably the most honest explanation I can give for some of my ways.

I'm sorry to everyone I let down while I was here. Or really ever, in regards to this. I knew, before I left, how much pain I was in while living here. But I don't think I really realized how much of that pain and depression had healed until I returned for the holidays. Pensacola is my worst nightmare marked on a map. It's a strange, almost uncomfortable, feeling when you finally gather that your new home is your REAL home. Your foundation, your sanctuary, your life- your choice. Everything here is so different from there, obvious why I chose such drastic change. Everything. The climate is shit here in Florida, by the way. I feel like I might have a fucking heat stroke at any given moment. My heartache in Colorado is different from my heartache in Florida. Here is where my life started, it's where I grew up. Everyone knows everything. And if they don't, well you have to explain yourself before someone else takes the liberty to do it for you. It's where my family fell apart, where my mom became a raging alcoholic and a raging lunatic- abusive and destructive beyond belief, where my brother died, where I hated my father, where I cried every fucking day, where a normal relationship didn't exist, where tragedy felt way too familiar. Where people hurt me and, worse, where I hurt people. Because we didn't know any better at the time and because we hadn't (or I hadn't) reached the point in my life where people were valued enough to keep around. I felt like I never had that, so for me to keep a long term, strong relationship took a level of commitment I wasn't ready for yet or I didn't know how to go forth with. I never knew that kind of healthy bond here- and if I did, I found a way to step away from it. Maybe because I was sad, or lost, or because every relationship growing up here as a child was fucked. I'm sorry I'm a flake here, it's hard for me not to be. I know it's my reputation. I revert back to that child who wants friends and wants to be loved but is too scared to leave the fucking house or gets too overwhelmed with all the fucking people she's trying to juggle to keep in her life. Does that make sense? It's never meant to be mean, I'm just sloppy. God, I remember how shy I use to be. Too scared to talk to anyone, my friends wondered why my mom was always asleep. They didn't want to talk about my brother. They didn't understand how I could hate my dad so much just to grow to love him as much as I do now. Maybe because he's the only family I have left I can and should appreciate? And no one here has to understand that. I would never expect anyone to understand why I do what I do because, for fucks sake, I hardy understand those things about half the people I have in my world. My life isn't here, my past is. My present is in CO and my future will probably be too. So when I come back here, it's like I've figured out time travel. I'm walking on pages already written on and all I want to do is tear them the fuck up or shit on them or burn them or get rid of them-forever-somehow, someway. And anyway, maybe this doesn't make sense. But I didn't want to leave my house much. Because I was terribly sick the entire time and because I love my new family and have really enjoyed being around them. But also for the reasons I just wrote about. I want my friends here, the ones I WOULD die for, the ones I grew up with, the ones I FEEL like I grew up with, the ones that I do consider sisters and brothers to know I still love them with all of my heart. And I want to see every one of them and I want to always keep in touch on some level. And one day it will be easier for me. And all I ask in return is to never stop loving me.

-C.

THERE'S SNOW EVERYWHERE! IT'S FUCKING WONDERFUL.

Everyday gets easier. Something I have to remember. Not to mention- After jodging all yuppie hippie ladies married to doctors who live off Pearl Street, Boulder is just amazing.. so how can I stay upset?

P.S. I don't know why people give James Frey such a hard time. So he lied? Who cares? There's something I kinda enjoy about reading some fucked up crack head/alcoholic's life on the road to recovery.

The rich, the homeless and the lost. All patting our feet on the bricks to whistles, flutes and war drums. One by one-eventually we'll all get up to dance our sorrows away and allow more rhythm for glory. Things turn the way they turn for a reason. Quit showing me your different dance moves or I'll punch you in the face again. Don't think I won't stand up for myself, don't think I can't dance on my own..

Whew. So..about manifesting what you want: Don't do it unless you know EXACTLY what you're getting yourself into. I guess you have to have experiences with horrible people in order to appreciate the ones with the good. Last night I cheered to an exceptional tomorrow..and I meant it.


P.S. Want to know what's so interesting? Despite the nauseating drama that surrounded me for so long, I still kiss the ground I walk on because it's not Pensacola.

So, here I am. There you are. Walk away, you're but ashes to me. Allow me to throw them out, or bottle them up if that makes you happier. Everything's all energy, I'll find more somewhere else. We've done our time.

Dood.

So, things have been great lately. Went to a show of short animation films on Saturday night and then out to happy hour sushi..12 bucks for 2 rolls, 2 orders of calamari and 2 saki's! Shit! Last night I went and had Indian food..which is a nice treat seeing as how there's a lack of it in Pensacola. On Wednesday, I drove out to Fort Collins to get coffee with Tyler and it went surprisingly well. I miss the shit out of that boy and love him deeply. I am okay, though, with where we stand right now. This feeling of being content with the situation comes from the feeling of content I have finally found within myself, with myself. Maybe someday we'll manage it, and I certainly hope so. But right now, life's too interesting here in Boulder to not be living.

I move into a new house on March 12th, perhaps even earlier. It's about a 5 minute drive from downtown and so biking will be an option in the late spring/summer. The rent is $300 with a total of $50 in utility bills and it's a month to month leasing-with a 30 days notice to move out time. The price couldn't get any better and I won't take anything other than month to month, for obvious reasons. The house is small but kept up nicely. The main thing is that I get the master bedroom and so it's not too small at all. There are 2 main reasons that the rent is so cheap--these being: 1) Tracey (roommate number one) has two WHITE Siberian Huskies. They are so sweet, but this means I will be carrying a lint brush with me at all times. And 2) There is only one bathroom between 3 girls. This shouldn't be too much of a problem because I've never really been a bathroom dweller. I mean, let's face it..sometimes I may even stink. Ha.

So, now, about my roommmates:
Tracey:
Tracey is a 40 year old retired paramedic. She moved to Boulder for a more stress free lifestyle and tends to be the typical "Boulder Granola". Meaning she's pretty much a older hippie. She's now a hypnotherapist and I'm not sure how I feel about that quite yet..haha. She's recently (past 2 years) divorced and is now trying to have a household that has a family feel and works as a community. Nice lady, although I can see her having a strange side. Strange is okay, though.

Taylor:
Taylor is real strange, too. She's going to CU for creative writing (go figure!) and drives a blue mini cooper with the british flag stickers and all, hah. Her room is a cluster fuck, equipped with Byork and Smashing Pumpkin posters. She has a pet rat..oh, and she takes trapeze classes every Saturday. Nice girl, although I can see her having a strange side. Strange is okay, though.

Needless to say, I am quite interested in living there. Seems mellow enough and now I won't be the weird roommate-in fact, I like that they are weird in a way different than myself. Keeps thing interesting and also keeps are lives at a nice level of friendliness with enough space. I've decided that, eventually, I will live in a house downtown but it's going to have to work in a way where I meet someone I can live with who is willing to pay around $500 a month. Also, this house will allow me to save money for the next adventure.

Lolita's is coming along quite nicely. We've hired someone for the graveyard shift and so now I'm no longer the Lolita's virgin. I'm working at a more bizarre place than I ever have before and I can't express how nice it is! I love my customers, all the regulars and I love that it's so centrally located.

In more Boulder news, my weird co-worker friend has turned out to be an alcoholic. I definitely suspected this the one day she offered me a shot of whiskey at 1 am..but I gave her the benefit of the doubt because not all 1 am whiskey consumers have drinking problems..er..right? She's a wonderful girl and, as different to me as she is, I enjoy her company at Lolita's. I am making other friends, though. Leigh Ann is a 25 year old who moved here about 4 years ago from Alabama. Nice that she's also from the deep south and oddly comforting to hear a southern accent. I practically always hang out with Mark and Dillian, which is nice-even though I miss having extremely close lady friends. In due time.

As far as school goes, I am finishing up (still) my 2nd essay and am still waiting to receive my letter of recommendation in the mail. Should be here any day and, come to think of it, I haven't been to my P.O. Box today. After that, all I have left is the TB testing and then I'm set to send it off. If all goes according to plan, I will be starting school in July...!



So that's, in a nutshell, my life as of the past couple of weeks up until the present. Boring, eh?!

I'm very excited to be leaving this hell hole. Talk to you all later..I'm leaving my troubles and worries behind. Despite all of the delays and weirdness..I'm living for now and it's a beautiful thing. Absolutely beautiful.





I'll see you on the brighter side of things.

Went to EC last night and saw Bonnie perform..

..'in the midnight hour..more! more! more!'..

And that was pretty funny. Wemt walking with Chelsea and that was pretty alright. Everything else has been pretty expected. I'm gross and smelly today and that's the way I prefer it.

This is getting really dangerous..I don't like feeling vulnerable.

I was thinking about my life and this constant game. Time is chasing me and I finally realized that I fear, more than most anything, growing old. I know that I'm running, running, running..and from what I can't really tell you. I don't even know if it's such a bad thing..but I'm constantly running and I don't want to stop. Stopping means no change and no change means lack of progression. I'm scared I can't stay the same, can't stay in one spot too long. I'm always going, going, going because that's what I live for..because what's there to do once I stop? Motion, always motion. Forward motion. If I travel, if I move and if I change..then I can continue to write my own story. It's my source of stability, but I fear maybe a fucked up one. I'm a very loyal person, but I'm also very scared of something for too long. I'm scared of stopping because there's that distinct possibility that I won't remember how to start again. Growing old means finding that stopping point. And maybe then, maybe then I will want the chapters to end and the cliff hangers to dissolve. But right now, that scares the living shit out of me. I don't know, so I move and I change and I grow. Moving is all I really know. And I must say.. I'm damn good at it. Ultimately, I do think it all helps me understand a little bit more. Inch by inch.

That being said, I am really-honestly loving my life and all of the people in it.

I think my brains on fire.

Why can't I ever read the right fucking people?

I'll write more later. Probably, maybe so.

I'm bored with this town and this town is bored with me..

I am patiently awaiting the day that real things make me wonder again.

Like a butterfly, a firefly..you can't stop beauty from wandering. And I can't stop you from wondering. It's what makes you so goddamn irresistible.



---
In other news: Travis [my Boston friend] will be arriving June 5th to wreak havoc upon Pensacola, Florida. He's one big ball of intensity/insanity-which is what makes him so out there and fun. We need to all pitch in and show him our southern hospitality..by going to Waffle House once he arrives?

"She's the only rocketeer in the whole damn place
They gave her a mirror so she could talk to a face
She still got plenty lonely but that's just the case
With time, time, time"

There's something inside of me that's growing and something else that's dying off.


"I was worried that my sister, left alone, would do something rash. She sat in her room on the old couch my parents had given up on and worked on hardening herself. Take deep breaths and hold them. Try to stay still for longer and longer periods of time. Make yourself small and like a stone. Curl the edges of yourself up and fold them under where no one can see.

She was prefecting the art of talking to someone while looking through them. That was my first clue that something would have to give.

She walked through the hallways and in and out of the rows of lockers--dodging anyone who might be near. I wished I could walk with her, mimic the principal and the way he always started out a meeting in the auditorum: 'Your principal is your pal with principles!'. I would whine in her ear, cracking her up. But while she was blessed with empty halls, when she reached the main office she was cursed with the drippy looks of consoling secretaries. No matter. She had prepared herself at home in her bedroom. She was armed to the teeth for any onslaught of sympathy."

I have a little crush on the Taylor Linens dude.
If anyone knows a Jesper who is: tall, dark, handsome and is the delivery guy for Taylor Linens..let me know. Hah. He's got longer dark hair and adores Tool, plus he's super nice.

Haha.