feeling for a fix then you should really get your fiend on

these colors remind me of the ocean and if i can look down during the day and think of the beach, i'm doing it!

favorite things right now.

1. Plum Lipstick or any other rich color.  Hopefully I can find an outfit bright enough to be paired with plum lipstick.  I find if I wear all black with my black hair... I will look gothic.  and not in a good way either.

2. temperley vintage gold and jeweled bracelet.  I swear Anita has the world's best vintage clothing.  If you look super closely you can find awesome stuff!  Like this bracelet and a Valentino purse I bought last year.

3. Vintage Anne Klein gold watch.  I'm looking forward to wearing two gold watches at once.  one thin and one masculine one, i haven't found the perfect masculine one yet.  I'm sure it will have to be vintage too. 

4. vintage leather, grey clutch. 

life is simple.

humans are the strangest.  so complicated and dying to define everything when nothing has a definition.  we live and we die and it doesn't really matter what happens in between.  it doesn't make me feel better to give my life pointless seriousness or importance because it shouldn't be serious or important at all.  

there is no meaning, there are no answers and i refuse to be spiritual.  there is nothing that cures the truth and sadness of human life.  i can understand the need to feel like we're not alone though,  it's tempting but overall comes up short. 

so hungry right now.

what's left to abort?

i never gave the idea of abortion much thought.  since i was a younger girl, whenever i was asked, "would you ever get an abortion?" i would always answer "yes".  but if i was ever asked "do you think you'd ever need an abortion?" my answer would have undoubtedly  been "NO"

i've always been pretty reserved sexually.  never really doing the fucking your friends thing, it was never really my style.  it's much to do about me.  having sex with people, then chilling with them was embarrassing for me.  i would sit there and go over things that they said and how they looked during the sex.  which, i was sure they were doing to me too.  so to avoid all that i generally didn't fuck my friends.  then i started thinking it would be safer to have an experience with my friend since i know him, think he's really funny and totally cute.  

it started with irresponsible sex.  i was more drunk than i had been in a while and i had taken to xanax.  from what i can gather we were at a club first.  which lead to us nonverbally communicating with each other that we should go to my car.  we go to my car and make out and it's at this point that i realize he is being a little rough.  BUT, what can i say?  I was still enjoying myself.  Then this lead to terribly unsuccessful fellatio on my part, the aforementioned xanax slowed down my breathing so much so that i couldn't breathe during oral sex.  so i really don't know what happened from there but we re-entered the club and it was also at this point i noticed he was SPEEDING up ahead of me so that he wouldn't be seen re-entering with me.  

i got a horrible knot in my stomach.  

all i get is "oh my god, what happened to you, your neck is all red!" to which i just laughed. 

well, him and i end up at the same after party and are both so fucked up we don't return to our own homes.  instead we end up on the kitchen floor of a mutual friend's apartment.  where are disorganized attempt to have sex continued.  from this point on, i don't know what happens. 

my face is burning and i open my eyes, only to find that my eyes burned more.  my vision gains full strength and i realize that he is on top of me, drooling on me with his pants down, snoring so loudly that it actually made me smile for a split second.  i had to get this fool off of me. i closed his nose so that he could wake up... but he didn't- he just opened his mouth allowing more drool to fall on my face and mouth.  so then i stopped trying to be polite and shoved him off of me, searched for my purse and walked out the front door.   

as i walked out of the apartment i realized my neck and legs hurt a great deal.  i got into my car and immediately brought down the visor so i could look myself in the mirror.  i was covered in violent looking hickeys some were on my cheeks, chin, lips but most were on my chest.  and yet still i had this, "well this looks like fun" feeling in my stomach.  i still wasn't upset about it. 

then i actually talk to him.  the first things he said to me was that he didn't remember a thing and for me not to tell anyone.   which altogether in one sentence doesn't make much sense.  if you don't remember anything, what exactly would i be telling other people?  it was at this point i began to realize just how ashamed he was.  i wasn't exactly top notch, he didn't want anyone to know about it.  

that plagued me for about two weeks, until there was another show where we crossed paths.  people were doing the classic post-show-parking-lot-hang-out, except he wouldn't look at me.  he didn't say hi to me, he walked away as i approached the group.  i remember my face getting red and feeling completely humiliated.  i felt like throwing up.  

somehow i found myself writing him emails and sending him instant messages that were never responded to.  and somehow my obsession with him only grew from there.  and i would try harder and harder and go to larger extremes to get him to at least look at me, further humiliating myself.  i couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that he didn't care.  that i couldn't force him to care enough about me as a friend to talk to me, to acknowledge me, to not be embarrassed of me. 

i wrote him some crazy myspace message telling him about how angry i was and two days after he had read it and ignored it, i took a pregnancy test.  

i didn't cry, i didn't do anything really.  i just sat there on the toilet with my mouth wide open.  completely aghast, it never occurred to me to keep my child.  almost immediately after realizing that i was really pregnant with this shameless asshole's CHILD i began to think about how to get money to get rid of it.  i called several places and the price was pretty much $400 dollars. 

what i hate to admit was that he had everything to do with me aborting my child.  i let him have so much of me to begin with, that i was willing to let him have the inside of me too.  i only thought to myself, "how on earth can i tell him, he won't even look at me", "how can i keep the child of a guy who's ashamed to even be my friend", "how can i keep this baby if he doesn't even fucking accept a myspace fucking comment from me?"

him, him, him, him, him, him, him.  i did so much thinking about him.  i would watch him jamming out with his friends, laughing it up not having a care in the world and felt sorry for myself.  i just sat there and felt SORRY for myself.  so often i wished i was the hot chick that got all his attention.  so often i wanted to be someone he cared about so that i wouldn't feel this way anymore.  i wanted to know he wasn't the most evil person on the planet.  i resorted to public slander of his character and shouting mean shit to him whenever i was close enough to him.  and even those attempts didn't work, i was further humiliating myself.  

I made the appointment 12 weeks into my pregnancy.  there was a counseling session that i was advised to be a part of.  and she asked me "what makes you sure that abortion is the option for you?"  I just sat there and cried about how HE didn't like me, how HE wasn't nearly ready even the concept of being a father, how HE was ashamed of me, how HE wouldn't help me.   i never mentioned myself, i just kept repeating to her "i want him out of my head and i want him out of my body". 

it was the best kept secret of my life.  no one knew what i had done, no one knew the decisions i had made- which was a terrible idea because i just got sucked right back into feeling sorry for myself. "no one knows what i'm going through, life is so sad" blah blah blah.  and around and around i went.  i started coming up with baby names.  IF i had my child i would name it this and that.  for some reason i wanted to name my son Garces and my daughter Lourdes Pilar. 

it wasn't until two years after my abortion that i started thinking about myself.  what it meant to me to have a child and what it had done to me to get an abortion.  i still don't know.  

i've always said i never wanted to be a mom. 

TV

i'm so sick of people saying television is bad for you. i think it's a beautiful form of media, it's easily abused but if we can make decisions to listen to whatever kind of music we want... the same goes for what television shows we watch. 

i don't watch survivor or american idol.  i don't watch Rock of Love or whatever the other dating show with flava flav is called.  obviously, that isn't a rich form of entertainment.  but i can't shut off television completely.  with the ability to have a weekly series, we're open to real character development and we're open to watching characters grow.  it's also important to see the bigger fucking picture!

get passed the obvious and look deeper into the themes of television shows.  how can i apply them to my real life and how to i relate?  why do we watch what we watch?  you end up learning quite a bit about yourself in the process.  it's just like books.  the little prince is NOT about a little dude who hops from planet to planet.  just like Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz are not what them seem.  they are huge allegories for the BIGGER FUCKING PICTURE in life.

don't be such a noob. 

mosquitoes.

i try not to make a big deal out of them. 

but this one has been buzzing by my ear, by my neck and in front of my book nearly all night. i sorta feel taunted.

like he's living my life, mocking the fact that i haven't looked up from my book all night.

bzzz bzzz bzzz. like he gets a fucking kick out of the fact that every thirty minutes i try to get up and find him so that i can kill him. i just want to kill him right now. my feet, hands, face, thighs and ankles will be my evidence. he pushed me to do it.

it's either him or me but i can't catch him. he's a slippery baby of a mosquito. only when he passes my window or book can i see him, it's so strange. i try following him with my huge human eyes but his little body slips just about anywhere. he's winning and laughing, my blood fueling him. he'll probably slip out of a window or door tomorrow and tell all his friends about how he spent his night/early morning. or with my luck, the mosquito will be ashamed of me. he won't acknowledge me, he'll leave me and never want to drink from me again. he'll buzz right out of my life like so many mosquitoes before him. 

the book i'm reading:

It's such a fantastic book! it's about seven different lives, they all live in the same suburb and it's sorta how their lives intersect and the perceptions they have of each other. the perceptions they try to control and the book tells how little the characters really know about each other. even the married couples. it sorta reveals this shocking truth about things that can seem so ordinary and how the term "ordinary" doesn't really have a definition in society. themes that aren't exactly original but their meaning and presentation are SO original. we end up feeling like the 33 year old retired cop is the creep and the psychosexual "pervert" is the victim. new perspective, new new new.

ALRIGHT. so everyone knows my insane obsession with producer/show creator Alan Ball. Firstly, i was head over hells for his series Six Feet Under. 

an intense drama about death with so my sincerity it was soul crushing. I can talk for hours and hours about the enormous effect this show had on me. but recently, he just wrapped up a second season of his ridiculously critically acclaimed show, TRUE BLOOD.

Aside from the fact that I have always been consumed with death, i just love the themes of True Blood. Immortality, mortality, what life means when you can't die, social injustices, religion, savage-like sex, the definition of love, possession, humanity, what being a human means... all the BIG themes that animate my life.

There is a character named Jason Stackhouse, who is the older brother of the main character Sookie Stackhouse. Jason has been through a lot; his parents killed in a flash flood when he was eleven, his grandmother and girlfriend being savagely murdered by a good friend and co-worker of his. He sorta had this emptiness inside of him and all he knew to do was to be hot and fuck anything that walked. 

In the second season of the show, Jason feels the need to belong and was recruited by a anti-vampire church called The Fellowship of the Sun. the idea of the church is that they are radical and believe vampires to be... well, evil. Jason doesn't question much, he just feels like he belongs to a family and feels closer to god. He makes the worst decisions and suffers greatly for them. But something that i can't shake is how his character just wants to be good. he just wants to be closer to his maker and do something for the greater good of mankind. he wants to be a hero but doesn't know how to save a thing, not even himself. he wants to be there for his sister and he wants to love and be loved in return.

I have the most in common with this character.

that's Jason Stackhouse having a conversation with Reverend Steve Newlin founder of Leadership of the Sun [notice jason's muscle shirt stands for Light of Day Institute]. sooo fucked up, yet so powerful. self-righteousness for the "glory" of god proves to be much scarier than sharp-toothed men.

sometimes you have to have a thoughtless fashion moment.

Nail Polish: OPI for Sephora in Dark Room

Eyebrows: Urban Decay in Honey Pot

i have the biggest urge to blog about my current obsessions:

 i'm starting to except that i like deep colors, not just black on top of black on top of black.  don't get me wrong, i still love layering black.  and totally dripping in gold with it.  but as fall and winter are approaching, i can't help but sorta itch for a little bit of color.

but i've never really been comfortable with super bright colors so my way of letting jades and purples into my wardrobe will really just mean they will be deep jades and purples, deep maroons and of course grey grey grey!  what would i do without being able to dress in all different shades of greyyyy?  aye.  i need to go shopping. 

i feel like it's finally about faux fur with me.  aside from the barbaric cruelty of real fur, it doesn't feel very nice to wear.  but i can't deny the automatic chicness that comes with a gorgeous  faux fur scarf, shrug or even hat.   it just completely heightens whatever the fuck you have on!  i don't need any help defining my enormous shoulders though, so i'll have to be really careful if i decide to wear my shrug.  

completely NOT into flats this fall, blah.  flats with skinny jeans, PLEASE get a new aesthetic.  but if not flats what the fuck?  so over flat boots too.  flat flat flat, not for me anymore.  i threw on a pair of wedges yesterday with some MC Hammer pants, ugh, made me feel so different.  so i guess i'm gonna be doing the wedge heel for good this fall/winter.  

sooo irritated with red/blonde looking hair right now.  i recently dyed my hair dark brown and feel a lot more comfortable.  i realized how much work my skin/eyebrows need.  so for now, i won't wear any eyeliner or blush.  i just want a clear face and defined brows.

so, i can't get over jade nailpolish!  it's a play off the regular old black or that deeply rich red [that nearly looks like black with black undertones].

I GOT THE NEW WORLD IN MY VIEW

i can say i've dealt with being lonely.

i can say that i've felt like when no one wants to be around you. 

i can say that i have felt like i am ashamed of who i am. 

i can say that there are things I can't change. 

i can't say I like being with people. 

i can't say i'm the kind of person that always wants someone around. 

i can't say that i would never be proud of who i was. 

i can't admit that nothing is my decision.

LADIES LEAVE YOUR MAN AT HOME

i have been trying to scratch my latest itch.  i've been painting my room and reading.  i've been talking on the phone and hanging out with friends. i've been aggressive.  i've been jealous.  i have not been working.  i haven't been passive.  i haven't been sober.  i haven't been creative.  i haven't been relieved. 

recently, i've been a little obsessed with loyalty.  i'm not even sure what that means anymore.  who has the desire to be loyal and what they think it means is very important, it's also important if you expect it and... what it means to you.  

if you are aiming to be loyal i think that means telling the truth to the person you are trying to be loyal to, even if the truth is horrible and hard to say.  i think being loyal is supporting someone when they've done something to disgust you.  BUT at what point do you start being loyal to yourself?  i think i've come to terms with the fact that i am not really loyal to my beliefs.  this fucking punk rock philosophy that's been ingrained in my brain for the longest time, has me thinking how on earth did this happen?  how on earth am I stuck in a car with dudes that can't stop saying "joto" and girls that can't stop saying "slut"?  

on a completely different note.  i was thinking about possibly making this blog about acting.  you know, talking about neat actors and actresses.  not hollywood assholes but really fantastic foreign and local stage and screen artists that I have the most respect for.  and work that really floors me.  

above the aforementioned is Alexander Skarsgard.  He is from Sweden and has actually been acting for a crazy amount of time.  I first noticed him in Generation Kill which i thought was so awesome and beautifully acted.  the character was so developed in silent clips with intense expression.  it's weird how that mini-series gets the point that there don't have to be fucking helicopters in the background 24/7 to make film significant and moving about war.  THEN, i saw Alexander in True Blood as the 1000+ year old, nordic vampire named Eric Northman and his character is cold and totally badass.  he is able to give a very sharp "FUCK YOU" with the raise of an eyebrow and even in the way he glances back and forth at people as they talk.  

he is the second gentleman who speaks. that quick first line he has is so fucking articulate!

he's the vampire :p

strangers never strange

it's the observation that is key, but the observation that eats me. the notes and notations won't do anything for me.  the pages go on and on and they've existed, before me.  on one hand it feels so good, my other hand is rotten like wood.  flaking away into dust.  it's probably the dust that gets caught in my eye and where again i flush it out.  a sort of dignity i never had a hold of, that observation i've never been without.  

i don't know myself.  but what the fuck does that mean anyway?  to know my TRUTH? haha, wtf?  I sorta laugh at aimless attempts self-awareness then realized I am shamelessly, ridiculously doing exactly that.  I don't know WHY i am trying to be so aware and in control all the time.  time, my obsessions, death... those piece of shit parts of my life i'll never be able to do anything about, shouldn't wash me clean and fill my lungs. 

they should be drowned or something.  drowned by creation or something.  You know?  I feel like it could work the same way as clogged pores do- i just have them in my insides.  i'll make a headband, then it will become the headband.

My old english teacher always used to say I used the worst "to be" verbs in my writing.  apparently, that's all I could think of writing with "will be", "we were".  i never bothered to come up with something better, even when she would ask me to be creative.  i would always choose creative subject matter [often terrible narritives] and write in boring "to be" verbs.

are am is was were be became become..... all "to be" verbs.  

birrrfday partee

what a sweet ass flyer.
happy birthday petey! and me next wednesday.



Birthday list:
bars
beer
bars melted into beer

my kitty's name is Harlow, otherwise known as Kitty Purry

Kitty Purry, a catholic shawl and a tattoo that I've had for almost two years that two percent of my friends have seen :D
A ridiculously expensive dye job.

alright, so this isn't going to be an interesting post.

I woke up this morning and decided i was too under the weather to go to work.  this usually makes for a badass day, except I was really sick.  so it was just annoying.  

I came home to find Tessie beating up Kitty Purry, by scooping her up with her snout and slamming her against the wall.  I will always be true to Tess but, she's totally abusive. 

I am moving in with Dezzzz!  Probably the most exciting news I've ever had and she's having a drummer circle party at her house this Friday, I want to sing and play the piano and little drum machine I have.  My intentions are to get high, bar out and get FREE.

I've got some serious shit to talk about, so I imagine I'll be making another post by the end of today.  :D

calm americans

I brought a kitty home yesterday. My black haired beauty queen was flustered at first, then she realized it was just a baby. The white kitty flips over and over stretching out her little paws, the black dog swats her on the floor- she's too big to play.




I had a dream last night that I was surrounded by tons and tons of folklorico dancer and I could only feel and see bright colors going SWUSH all around me. I kept trying to look at the dancers in the face but at the last minute they'd move around. I could smell pan dulce and I realized we were dancing in front of my dead grandmother in a wheelchair. She was clapping and singing along but the whole dream was silent. I could feel the confetti landing on my cheeks.
I followed this one dancer because I wanted to see her face, I grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around. When I turned her around, they all turned around. They were all wearing oxygen masks and their faces were rotting.

take your finger off of it

I'm already disgusted with what I said earlier. I guess that's another weird, hateful thing about art... you can look back at it. Not that writing a little something something on a blog no one knows about is ART but it's document, another breed entirely.

I am dying my hair on Saturday for an obscene amount of money. A ridiculous amount of money! I just wanna see how it turns out. I shouldn't have it light again, dark seems to be the shade for me. Although, I could just do something light because even a blond sounds dark right now. I'm a really indecisive person, which makes me a complete pushover.






I am SUCH a pushover that my friends have told me "you are a fucking pushover"
I'm in fact so willing to give up thinking for myself, I really give it away. I can't decide where I want to eat, where I wanna go [so I end up going to people's grandma's birthday parties], if I should go over or not, what the fuck we're gonna do! I would give anything for the words to fall right out instead of getting an anxiety attack over "cheese or hummus?!"










I can tell sometimes my Sofie tries not to state her opinion out loud first anymore because she knows it would sway my thought. I can't help it! It's not because I wanna look dope, I just care deeply about few and I know if Sofia and I are disagreeing it's because I am missing a point of view. there's something i DON'T know about and I'd like to be told.
which is all great. EXCEPT... I sorta use it as a crutch also. again, just a loophole in having to make decisions.





I have to get back to the world. Enough living inside of my head. I'm so afraid of dying but I haven't moved in years. I don't know what the fuck I am doing! I work really hard at a weird job and go to school for god knows what. I forgot already. Oh that's right... ENGLISH SENLSNG. I am going to be miserable for the rest of my fucking life! haha, yeahhhh I would like to read for a living. or maybe read to you? read to your kids? read to myself.


but yeah, back to the world. I have to dedicate a day where I'll just roll a joint and lie in the grass, smell flowers, get dirt under my nails, walk around my neighborhood, try to walk my dog without a leech, take the ol' red cruser bike out for a spin :D










I can't brew life in my head, it rushes out of my pores almost automatically.

nosebleed cental

So I have terrible blood sugar [non existant, nearly] and I am anemic to the core. Nosebleeds have become my best friend and it's irony mainly because I never take the high road.





A couple of days ago I thought about art, what it must feel like to be an artist. It reminds me of getting bitten by a snake and sucking the blood out with your mouth, then spitting it out. To be able to extract poisons, sorta speak. but then there are those of us who don't have a way of getting the poison out, so it pumps through my veins and has become my sustenance. WTF, how can I be living off my poison? I have no idea but I am. I could be the explanation as to why I am so crass and careless with even people I care about the most.


The strange this is I know I am performance artist. HA, it feels so weird to actually say that out loud. I am so envious of the courage that artists have, to draw or sing or write. I guess thats why I've penned myself Selina LION lately... [cowardly]. What is an actress to do? Have monologues in the car where I make myself cry and pretend to have different accents [I am currently obsessed with a Shreveport accent and subtle difference between Louisianna and general southern accents]? I already do! Someone be in a performance art group with me and make this all go away.










My mission is not to be ashamed anymore.