Quandary

What do you do when you don't want to go home, and you don't want to stay here?

Sleepy

I wish I could sleep, but I can't. Tomorrow's a lot to do.

the beginning

            He never understood that she kept him anchored to the world until she was gone.
            It was a frigid Thursday evening in January with soft snowflakes falling as she took her last breath.  The last few days had been a sharp decline. On Monday she talked about the future with her son and, as she’d always been able to do, she consoled him. After their talk, he felt that maybe there existed a future bright, in which the both of them could grow and smile and continue being there for each other. Tuesday was when the social worker showed up to talk them through this stage of grieving, whatever it was, and he released the iota of hope that she’d imparted to him, and it drifted away and voided itself of their presence. Wednesday he never left her bedside. He wasn’t sure what word to attach to the situation, but she seemed to be quite delirious, talking, moaning about those close to them who’d been leaving this world in the last few years. Thursday was silent.  She seemed to be resting peacefully until sometime in the dark of the evening, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, one tear escaping the corner of her right eye, and she was gone. He just felt it.
            His dad removed himself from the dying process. Later he’d overhear him talking to other people, saying things like, “I just couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t watch her die. It hurt too bad.” He wouldn’t let the angry beast escape him in front of those who deemed their presence obligatory. But he wanted to yell at his dad and ask him how the fuck he thought she felt when the only way she could avoid death was to die.
            So after she’d gone, he worked his way through the checklist, calling the right folks in the right order. The Hospice nurse would be there to declare her dead and do the things necessary when this happens in the home. The family would all be coming in to see her in her home one last time, after they’d barely been there in the months since her diagnosis. It’s just what you do had nothing on him, because he didn’t consume artificiality.
            He simply retreated once the first one walked through the front door without knocking (Isn’tknocking something you just do?) because he’d always weathered these kinds of storms with her and that wouldn’t be possible anymore.  People had always overwhelmed him with all their unspoken messages of want, and he’d been trained to meet the needs ofeveryone. He just couldn’t do that now, and maybe never again.
            His dad had her body removed to a funeral home he’d never have chosen because the people there were rude to him when his mom’s sister was there. And the next morning, he and his father, along with relatives who insisted on being there to support them in their hour of need, trekked to the funeral home to make arrangements he wanted to makehimself. He knew what she’d want, because they’d had the type of relationship where knowing what the other wants without it being delivered in an obvious way, like talking to each other, was protocol. He didn’t need the extra bother of their presence. His dad was enough.

yes you

i like the snake on your tattoo.  i like the ivy and the ink blue.  yayo.  yes you.  you have to take me right now from this dark trailer park life now. 

that's a fucking song right there.  not a fucking song.  but a song by which to fuck.  some strange ones have become my heroes.  hero hos.  i wanna let loose on the world. 

i have so much i need to be doing.  sitting here is not one of them.  bathing the dogs and washing bed clothes is one of them.  add other laundry into that and you've got an almost full list of to-dos.  add grade papers and plan for this week and you have a full list of to-dos.  blah.

i don't want to go back on monday.  thank ___________ for the breaks, though.  i'm not an middle class, christian, rural american.  what if the i that i am doesn't fit with the rest.  there's no connecting piece?  there's no opposite of me.  i don't know where i belong.  i simply cannot imagine myself anywhere.  anywhere, along with happiness and belonging and shit. 

i want to find the others that also came here from the same ship.  they're out there.  i know they are.  i wanna get phucked up.  (i know your wife, and she wouldn't mind.) 

this came true

http://starphucker.blogspot.com/2002_02_01_archive.html#9420316

my grandma did pass away while i was in savannah, georgia.  march, 2005.

here's a blog i started in June, 2001.  i think it ended in august, 2001:

http://starphucker2.blogspot.com/2001_06_01_asshole.html

and here looks like march through august, 2001:

http://starphucker1.blogspot.com/2001_03_01_ashole.html

I know who loves me most in the world.

Today's been a lazy af day. I been unner da covahs for years. I went to bed at 8 something and got up allmos at 11 tahday.

No more dying crap.

if i'd have made my arrival from the lips of her vagina, i'm pret sure i'd have been a straight man. 

say you remember

black friday.  if i were black, i'd be pissed, and i'm sick of fucking hearing about black friday deals.  let's let christmas be about jesus, the intent of the original holiday.

love you more than those bitches before (or after). 

people are judged based upon what they probably look like naked.  have you ever noticed that shit?

i will love you 'til the end of time. 

i need to go brush my teeth and wash my faces. 

i need to make the stuffing. 

how about some stuffing made out of zac efron's cock.  i'd so be the turkey for that.  even if it meant sacrificing life and shit. 

love hurts. 

Her voice reminds me of how religious structures like mosques and churches were traditionally built with flaws in order to avoid perfection...because perfection is reserved for God.
 

then why we all be striving for perfection?  are we truly trying to be more god-like? 

it's all about the power of god, baby.

he's on top. 

i love it when he's on top.  his elbows behind my knees.  pushing my legs into the air and back so as to have easier access to my hole. 

then he slams it in and starts pounding away.  hot damn. 

i love the way my asshole feels all open and loose and juicy after a hot fuck. 

promise that you'll remember you're mine. 

this makes lana look like an adele...headed for a fucked-up holiday. 

 

 

sometimes love is not enough.

 

let me fuck you hard in the pouring rain?

 

this is the last time, cuz you and i?

 

we were born to die. 

Ceiling tiles and corrupt files

Bless all the turkeys who sacrificed their livez so that you may feel normal tomorrow, America.

But seriously, what happens to all the featherz? Are they just disposed of?

And why'z it so wrong to end a sennence with a prepOsition?

Were the rulez based upon aural notions, or were they only random?

I want to get the damned turkey in the oven by ate.

Heaven or hell or both heaven and hell should be quite overpopulated by now, no?

To me, that proves souls are recycled. Or that souls are a figment. (Some, many thoughts don't need to be completed with the lips, because they're completed with the ears.)

And shouldn't Heaven and Hell both be capitalized?

Some cruel tyrant had to create the word "should".

Peace out, bitches.

Fuck you. It's only a word. Can you decipher the message's intent only through convention?

"Fuck you" = "I love you" in many instances. Especially among men.

More rules I'm proud to know. My head's deprived of space as a result of those rules, just like a computer could run more efficiently with only the most necessary of rules.

the fragile demeanor of the pussy

holidays typically make me yearn to be typical.  the typical family.  the tv spot for comfort. 

anything i ever had that was anywhere remotely similar to that is spent. 

my dad was released from the hospital last evening, after a stay of 11 nites.  i already miss his total absence.  total?  the fucker and i have never had any type of relationship.  now, the only thing i feel for him is a sense of duty, because my mom felt it was her duty to nurture his lazy, fucked-up, no good ass.  making sure he has a minuscule buffer against the cruelty of nature is my paying homage to my mother. 

he's never felt any sense of duty toward me.  or any of his kids.  or any of his grandkids. 

he's like a 70 year-old child.  he can't put fucking shit away.  he can't do anything.  to hear him tell, he never has any money, even though he consistently takes money from his bank account, leaving me responsible for more than my fair share.  not that he has any concept of anyone's fair share.  he only has a concept of himself. 

last nite i visited my mom's sister because i was in her town on other business.  :-)  she and i began talking about my dad.  i guess because he'd just been released from the hospital.  i mentioned that i'd met my oldest (half) sister a couple of times now, and i'd also met both of her boys.  and i relieved myself of some of the mess regarding that issue that's been plopped down in the center of my consciousness since the very moment i learned about my sisters' existence.  i've no doubt whatsoever that, if my mom had not maintained her relationship with him, he'd have left me behind as well. 

how the fuck do you go through life knowing you have two offspring you know nothing about.  knowing they each have offspring you've never even fucking met!?  it's their "fault" for not pursuing him? 

i loathe him. 

i wish i were indifferent. 

because indifference is the opposite of love.  love and hate are in the same spectrum.  i believe hate is a form of love.  if you hate, you give a fuck.  i want not to give a fuck. 

i'm sure i'll be relieved when he's gone.  why do i feel like putting words to those feelings will doom me? 

i'm already doomed.  i've been doomed since the second i was conceived.

this "family".  this way of "life".  this self. 

and i've never quite acknowledged my existence.  my desires.  my needs.  when i truly listen to me, i realize i don't believe i deserve anything good.  for reals.  i'm most cruel to myself. 

i don't feel like anyone could want me.  i don't feel like i deserve a healthy human relationship.  heaven fucking forbid relationshipS. 

i'm alone.  alone.  a.  l.  o.  n.  e. 

i hope that the trajectory of my circumstance has been altered, simply by resuming this blog.  by putting the realist me i can do for now out there for someone else to hear.  no name attached. 

but always with the hope that someone who does know my name is listening.  cares to listen.  cares to tether the real with the me. 

and abruptly he gets up and storms out of the room, and with his back turned against the ears of others:

have a fucking happy day of should.  pretending to be who i should be.  so i'm part of the crowd.  so i'm part of the in crowd. 

i turn my back on anyone who could possibly care for me because i want them to prove i'm worthy of pursuit. 

everyone's let me down so far in my life.  everyone.  everyfuckingone. 

it's time for me to should myself.  my.  self.  prove to myself that i'm worthy of pursuit.  i'm worthy of attempting to have my dreams fulfilled.  of having dreams in the first fucking place. 

again. 

have a truly full and complete and loving day of...  of.  of feeling.  of believing you're just like everyone else.

of believing that you're just like everyone else.  that you're so much like everyone else that you're lovable. 

i want to be lovable. 

now just to find the path to feeling it.

the next step will be knowing it.

then owning it. 

finally, letting no one forget. 

You da bestest

Got my bad baby by my heavenly side.
I know if I go, I'll die happy tonite.

Think I'll miss you forever, like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky.
(Late is better than never.)
Even if you're gone, I'm going to drive.

remember

I should've learned by now that if I'm too tired to do something before bed, I'm not going to wake up in time to do it in the morning.

new day

i've often found i always get what i need (in lesson form).  last nite i met (seriously...just met) a man who revealed a character i've been trying to flesh out for years.  maybe now i can get my write on? 

for now, it's off to get ready for school.  an early day.  a lot to accomplish.  much of tomorrow's going to be eaten by food.  then off for the rest of the week.  hopefully the off-days don't fly by.

i'm preparing thanksgiving dinner for my fam.  i'm excited about that, but i miss my mama like crazy. 

trying not to let the holidays own me.

harvey's in the sky with diamonds, and he's makin' me crazy.

(here come another lie.)

all he wants to do is party with his pretty baby.

my fantasy is to develop a source of independent wealth.  i'm not digging having to pretend.  but here's to doing what need did.  ...and doing a damned fine job at it!

keeping it going

i have more to say, and i'm not stopping now.

like i said, that previous post linked to one of my favorite posts i've ever made. memories. i've been trying to create a list in my mind, a list that continues where the previous one leaves off. and i have to admit, i'm having a hell of a time.

are there things i don't want to admit i've enjoyed? or is it that i've been too busy living for others to enjoy anything i'm doing?

there's nothing i've enjoyed. i haven't let loose in a long time. i haven't been me. i can't enjoy anything when i'm not me.

this is not where i'd ever desired to be. yet, i'm here. yet, i'm the responsible party.

i have to change it. i have the power. instead of a list of memories past, i'm going to make a list of memories future.

and i'm going to do my best to allow the true me to shine through.

+ i'll believe i deserve to be the best. i'll believe i deserve to effect positive change (in the WORLD, even)!
+ i'll enjoy my body. that goes with being the best. deserving the best. i deserve to find myself attractive. attractive by my own standards, not the standards of the fake-as-fuck cliques of this fucked-up world.
+ i'll include the people in my life who're capable of honesty, who can deal with the true me. who love the true me. (note to self: stop fucking HIDING!)
+ i'll create. create creations that speak of my vision of what can be, what is that can be changed. evolution. positivity.
+ i'll seek to control myself, not the environment in which i find myself.
+ i'll find my home.
+ i'll find those who belong in my home environment.
+ i'll travel.
+ i'll discover beauty.
+ beauty doesn't need discovered. i simply need to see it.
+ i'll boil shit down to its essence, and i'll accomplish what i need to accomplish in situations i don't love. (necessary interactions with the colleagues.)

lana del rey is fucking genius. my pussy tastes like pepsi-cola? seriously. : )

a fave

this is from my first blog, started more than 10 years ago.  it's one of my faves:

http://starphucker.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6771663

it's been awhile

it's definitely been more than awhile. for some obscure reason, this morning after checking out the secrets on postsecret, i uncovered a longing to remember. i always go to the past when i seek comfort. this blog is one of the best things i've done. i can look back in it to see the boy i was, the man i wanted to become, the things i longed for. the dream i had for myself. that dream's gone missing.

i've had the same job for 9 years. how the hell did that happen? how the hell did i wind up in a conservative minuscule town on the map, where duplicates are the norm, the desire, the trophy, the score? i was going to be great. i was going to let my one-of-a-kindness shine through, like the beacon from a space vessel piercing the nite sky, bringing with it something new, some new landscape, some new pattern to life.

it's not that i hate my job, my uniqueness, my presence of awe. i hate that my desire to please others is drowning me. has drowned me? is there hope of a resurrection here? close-to-40's not too late. is it?

too many politics have shown up in education. too many bitches have reared their ugly fucking faces. too much conservatism is present. and it should be just the opposite. shouldn't it? i hate that i don't possess the self-belief to call that shot. the kids need someone who isn't looking to turn out little images of myself. don't they? kids need opportunities to be creative, to figure out themselves, to figure out what they're going to offer the world, what they're going to do to change the world. right? we can't have carbon copies and expect an evolution. right? RIGHT!

that realization makes it worthwhile. but i have to find my voice, my presence. i am respected by very few of my colleagues, seen as a trouble-maker by most. but i help kids grow. i don't repress them. i love the loud-mouths who won't do shit i ask them to do. i love the kids who refuse to be defined. i love the kids. that's why i'm there.

you're not defined by what loves you, but by what you love. i read that in my re-readings of my blog this morning. it makes me happy.

i used to see myself in a lovely marriage of love and family, behind a white picket fence in the country, with possessions that grounded me. i don't see that anymore. in fact, i'm seeing just the opposite. i'm scared as shit. i'm alone. and i'm lonely. pushing everyone away. inviting nobody in. not feeling good enough to want what i want. feeling old and unattractive and unloveable. wah! fucking wah!

i must allow myself to be pulled in the direction life takes me. i must meet with my purpose. i MUST! and if that purpose is to reform education in a small, midwestern town of fucking twits, then so be it.

but i still want to write. creativity makes me feel power. i need power again. i need to feel powerful, to feel wanted, to feel needed. i gave that away. i threw it away. i flung it away. i fucked it away. i'm not sure what i did with it. all i know is that it isn't with me anymore. none of it. no part of it. the alone part doesn't bother me; it the lonely that bothers me. it's the fear that bothers me.

i held so tightly onto my mother, and now she's gone. it was this time last year when she began her sharp descent into leaving me. the weather, the scents, the slant of the light, all remind me of that time. that was a horrible time, watching her decay before my very eyes, not a damned thing i could do. the force that brought me here, the force that kept me here. gone. january 12, 2012. i'll never see her again.

but i'm still here, living with self-inflicted pain. pain i can alleviate with my mind. i need self-love. i need self-motivation. i need purpose. i need determination. i need not to be definite. i need to love what i love. be who i be. i must quit this current path that leads to my demise. i'm already so close.

you're not defined by what loves you. you're defined by what you love. just let it be. let it happen. march forward, with face to the sun.

if you're reading this, know i'll never forget you. and how fucked the hell up is that? just throwing it out there, because as i write this, i keep envisioning your reading it.

i'll get better. i won't be surprised at where the time has gone in 2.5 years. i'll be me. i'll be me. i will be me.