Brandy Alexander

Today I didn't feel much like moving. I just lay there, letting things spin around my head, still hung up on a dream. I hated waking. It was pins and needles and butterflies all at once, my breath catching. It was love, I think. I wanted it back. I lay there in boycott. I could've cried.

After showering, I didn't bother dressing. The Chinooks wailed outside. The hairs stood on my wet skin, on the back of my neck.

I left sloppy lipstick kisses on the mirror, the outline of my face, and wiped them away with a towel.

Hours later, in a liquor store parking lot, waiting, Brandy Alexander. Pins and needles and butterflies all at once, my breath catching. Phantom sorrow. Tears for lack.

what should i do when i grow up??

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Immortality Schmimmortality

My body is falling apart! (I am a hypochondriac) My body....is falling.....(chicken little complex)....apart!

So the week before last I spent almost everyday in the hospital. The reason being that my mother had a minor heart attack due, in part, to a heart defect she was born with. Now, I'm twenty one, and I like to think I don't need my mother to be strong for me anymore, but seeing her in a hospital bed, only slightly coherent the first day, suffering, hungry, depressed, and mortal- it scared the hell out of me. My helplessness scared me. Her helplessness scared me. There was literally nothing I could do but take up space in her room and get in the nurse's way.

Being a person with tendencies toward being a hypochondriac, who has panic attacks because her bra's too tight, and maybe she's having a heart attack! - Well I was deeply affected in that sense, too.

I am seriously freaking out. Panic attacks make you dizzy and nauseous, and being dizzy and nauseous makes you have panic attacks when you think you're always sick. I, too, was born with a minor heart defect. One they told me was no big deal, doesn't affect my heart function at all...and yet I can feel things going awry in there sometimes, not just my heart skipping a beat, but... But here's the thing. I think I may actually, possibly, be falling apart. I mean, I'm 21. And my joints ache, and I wore heels a month ago, and my toe still hurts, and I've probably got some kind of fucked up juvenile arthritis or something. I feel weak all of the time, and yesterday I felt like puking for hours straight... I mean what kind of system feels like puking for so long and doesn't just come out and puke. And I'm having headaches, whether I give them to myself or not. Hopefully it's not the immaculate conception II or something even more sinister. Lol. So this is my fond farewell. If you don't see me in at least a few weeks, I have gone on to a better place, where House M.D. is a real guy and works in a hospital right outside my door and indulges me for some reason.

the brightly colored rainbow that is me. :p

obviously i am bored.

The Darjeeling Limited

This was a very fun little intimate ironic movie. :) I was going to write something about it. Then, no.

Panic. Panic. Panic in the streets.

I left school yesterday after poetry class. I was panicked and a bit shaken. I haven't had to leave a place due to a case of the crazies for months now. I tried to write it off as low blood sugar, since I hadn't eaten and that can play tricks on a person like me who's too damn sensitive. I did feel better after eating. I was also home playing hermit for a few hours, though, and that's what really does it for me. Sometimes I wish I could just disappear into my bed and live life reading fiction and not giving a shit about anything but sunny days.

I have fucking class tomorrow. Poetry. Critiques. And I had the bright fortune of having my critique on a day when the prof was out due to emergency, so now I have to fucking repeat it. And everyone hates my poetry. So I get to relive that worthless experience. And I'll be hungry, because who has time to eat when they have class at 8 am. Which means I'll likely be a bit crazy again. And paranoid. And then I'll fall into a shame spiral and wake up in the fetal position in the grass somewhere clutching a tattered copy of my last-minute poem and weeping.

Oh. And then I'll never get a job, and I'll have to beg change off of people from my place in the grass until I grow old and gray and childless.

So tomorrow will be trying. I'll wear black for the sad occasion.

RENT RENT RENT RENT RENT!!!

I think I'll always love this movie.

the greatest

Silver Stallion :)

Where's my Cake?

I actually got that all done from 8-12. Because I fucking rock the procrastination. Turned the paper in exactly 3 minutes before deadline. Right on.

Complaining, Procrastinating

In a poetry class now, now as in "this semester". I'm getting a similar feeling as I did from being an art major. Self importance, over confidence, judgment. I realize that to learn, we must take ourselves seriously, but... well, this level of it is somewhat nauseating. I like art for its jubilation, its expression, its ability to let us laugh at ourselves through words, language and form. I didn't want this to increase my misanthropy. I went in with HOPE. Bright and soaring. But people are selfish and boring. Myself likely included. But if everyone else gets their delusions, I get mine.

At least the grad student prof has calmed down a bit. She had claws out in the beginning. Maybe now she realizes nobody in this class poses a challenge.

I have a damn paper due in a few hours and two one pagers due tomorrow for poetry.

I like school, but I fucking hate school.

Charm Fades

How long does it take before the charm fades, and instead of being a novel person you're just another asshole? Does everyone fear being normal? Is it so bad? Trying to be novel is the new future asshole thing isn't it.

Frames too big for the pictures.

March 2, Actually

Thinking aloud....but not. Thinking quietly on a screen.

I have a chance to move in with a friend. This'll probably be good, I guess. I can't seem to get excited much. She might have her baby move down, and I don't know how I'd feel about that. Not that it's a bad thing. I love kids, I'm good with kids, and I think it'd be enjoyable, but- I'd be kind of an extra player in a story that shouldn't really involve me. And no matter how silly it seems, I get this anxiety about every possible choice....I'm getting too OLD for everything. This may just be a side effect of being between adolescence and adulthood. I'm twenty, and feel like I should be some sort of valid human being with a life and things happening for her. Mostly I feel like an extra player in other people's stories. Same old mind game I seem to always play. I'm too OLD for that, too. Heh. I'm too old for these steps. They should have happened years ago. The getting a life thing. But I remain mostly uninterested. There must be a name for this syndrome. Perhaps lazy. Perhaps Whogivesafuckitis.

I think the only reason it bothers me a bit is because it's supposed to bother me. And if it doesn't, I must be defective. And if I'm defective, well, .......I can't believe in myself.

I think I want a man and a house and a yard and a dog and a car and a thick savings account. I think I'm supposed to.

Men don't do it for me. I tried it. heh. I tried it in youthful ignorant sloppy fashion, and it left me feeling hollow. And ignorant. Very ignorant. But sort of more valid, in a way.

But I can't live my life alone. Always the bridesmaid never the bride? Lol. Isn't that supposed to be the epitome of sad??

I don't want to be the epitome of sad. I can't handle being a stereotype. I'll end up seeing myself acted out on primetime tv, and all my dignity will have fled.

Constant state of embarrassment.

Maybe I'd rather be neat and mysterious. Married to art. An Andy Warhol type. But that only works in big cities, and even then... isn't it all a bit shallow? In love with art??

I don't want to be the epitome of trite.

If that's even correct.

I have a headache.

I have dreams of sleeping. Daydreams.

I have dreams of waking.

I'm never really rested.

I have a headache.



Kim's stream of consciousness ramble post march 2. heh.

March 3

Winter is ending, and with it the shallow tense feeling of dark and cold. The sun lingers longer every day now, hinting and teasing. This summer I could sleep every day under a tree and be satisfied. Nothing is as simply beautiful.

Sun and Sleep. I don't think I want much more.

mmmmmmmmmmmm

i wish i could drop out of reality into a world of gumdrop houses, and cotton candy puppies.

Semi Charmed Life

Hahaa.

ALONE!

Good god I hate where I'm at. I think I'm incapable of working human relationships. How long will I need to play catch up? Pity pity pity.


crycrycryboohoohoo

etc

Everclear

They said you called me maybe yesterday
I dont even have the strength to pick up the phone
Wouldnt even know me since you went away
The prozac doesnt do it for me anymore

You ought to take your medication everyday
Be a good dog, live life in a wonderful way

Tell me why you want to be blind
I dont want to be normal like you
I know now, everyday
I get closer
To the place inside where I can be normal too

I heard those stupid people talk about you again
I just have to laugh to keep from hurting bad
Their simple minds just cannot seem to understand
You are neurotic and depressed
It doesnt mean that youre sad

You walk around oblivious to everything
You wear that party dress and black mascara
Like youre queen for the day

Tell me why you want to be blind
I dont want to be normal like you
I know now, everyday
I get closer
To the place inside where I can be normal too

I will never be normal like you
You walk around oblivious to everyone
I see you walking slow and simple
Underneath the big black sun

Tell me why you want to be blind
I dont want to be normal like you
I know now, everyday
I get closer
To the place inside where I can be complacent

Yes, I get closer
To the place inside where I can be sedated

Yes, I get closer
To the place inside where I can be normal too
Where I can be normal like you
Maybe normal like you
I can be normal like you

Death

My grandfather died a few weeks ago; alone in a home. They called my aunt from the home he'd been put in to say they'd lost him, couldn't find him anywhere. He died alone and unaccounted for. There was a time when this would have sent me reeling, but now it just seems one more fact, one more testament to the coldness of this world, to the utter meaninglessness. A good man died alone, completely alone, while his daughter and son lived their busy lives in their homes elsewhere, and he died conveniently- for them, at least. I don't know what to feel, and I'm not going to act.

The night my grandfather died neither my father or my aunt talked to me, but rather had my mother tell me. Neither one called later. Neither one wants a funeral. Neither one wants a memorial. Neither one seems to want anything to do with it, and a Merry Christmas, all. Here's to one more year of stale obligatory familial prison. What bullshit it all is. My poor grandfather. I'm so sorry about any and all of it. What a shitty way for people to be and live life. I wish I wasn't a part of it.

A week or so ago a girl I went to school with for five years was brutally murdered by her ex boyfriend. She was shot and stabbed by someone who claimed to love her. I never knew the girl very well. I'm not sure we ever had more than one class together, and yet one night before we both graduated, at a party a friend of mine was having, she took me aside and surprised me with her depth of caring and just unexpected genuine regard. She told me she thought I was a really smart girl and how she knew I'd do well, and I honestly felt enormous respect for her. She had a sort of spirit I envied, brave and bold and fiercely feminine. And she's dead at 21. I'm sure she could have done a lot with herself, and I don't mean fame and fortune and all of that bullshit we mistake for a well lived life.

And there it is. An old man, and a young woman. One died alone and in relative peace, one brutally, both with much more to live and to give than they had time or opportunity for.