Merry X-Mas...Yeah, Whateva!

I do not celebrate Christmas because I do not believe in God. I let December 25th pass as any other day because I do not consider Jesus Christ my savior. I do not celebrate the merriest of holidays like everyone around me not only because I have no one to celebrate with, but because I just don't. Don't feel bad about it. It's the honest truth. I am no longer a child, I no longer receive gifts, and I no longer care.

Untitled

Solitaire simply sitting there
Nerves exposed bare
Through the soul’s tear
Blind gaze shifting fixed stare
Dazed in trance state
Stunned by focused care
Move close retract and pull back
Shake the react
Shook by contact
Shine light to shallow deep black
Fearful of attack causing impact
Gone on to what is known wrong
Even if right fights to hold on
Please sung like a sad song
Lost voice hasn't been heard for long
Warm embrace has a different taste
With a sweet scent and a simple grace
Eyes cry to look and see the face
That transplants the heart to another place

Hi Everyone,

Just wanted to say a quick thanx to all who 1) can read, and 2) do read…my posts!! I kinda fell off in November but December has proven to be a creative month. Thanks again for your emails and wall posts on Facebook! It’s pretty cool to hear which entries are your favorites and why. You guys keep me motivated and creative. I cannot stress **thank you** enough!!!

Much Love,

KV

Dreams Are One Hell of a Drug

Last night I was on a journey to save someone. I traveled a far distance in the winter’s snow amidst an infantry of wolves. I knew they were there to protect me and I felt safe. Through darkness and bright light we trekked for days upon days, trouncing obstacles intended to keep from my destination. At times, members of the pack would travel off to the horizon to ensure we were not being followed. Impending hunters never survived coming too near. I was gracious to these wolves and shared my supply of water. In turn they kept me warm and fed. Although I came close to reaching my purpose last night, I woke before you had a chance to know I was there. But I was.

See Jane Live

I can see my phone from across the room, laying suggestively at the edge of my desk. I keep it on vibrate. Without my help I know it will soon dive and plummet off the desk. I happen to be pretty positive it can withstand the impact when it buzzes itself to my bedroom floor so, I just go with it. It’s not that I’m too lazy to walk across the room, pick it up and see who’s calling. It’s also not because I’m avoiding receiving any particular call. The reason I say “fuck it!” and refuse to save it from it’s descent to my oriental carpet is because I don’t really care who’s calling. Not at all.

I’ve been staring at my ceiling all afternoon. Even with a new coat of paint this room still makes me feel like shit. I’ve been living here for six months now and it just never feels like home. Home never felt like home either, that’s why I left. I hated it there and I hate it here. I’d move out if I could afford to but, this shitty apartment is unusually cheap for the area, so I deal with it.

I can hear bass from a stereo down the hall. Three apartments over, that’s where Raz lives. He’s a pretty chill Jamaican guy I buy pot off of occasionally. Sometimes we hang out and smoke together on the roof of the building. One night while we were high he told me the story of the girl who lived in my apartment before me. She was some pretty chick fresh out of college with mommy and daddy paying her rent. She was a naïve girl from I understand and would bring random men back to the apartment to fuck. The last night she brought a guy home she was raped, killed, and butchered into a half dozen pieces. The cops never caught the guy and I think thats why my rent is unusually cheap.

I’ve got about 45 minutes before I have to go to work. I waitress at some fancy bullshit restaurant. Thank god I’m only there part-time, I couldn’t bare it a second longer then I have to. It’s a high class place where I am nothing more than a servant with an extensive knowledge of wine. Rich men bring their ditzy dates in to show off their money. The women look down on me while their dates grab my ass. Management won’t do anything about it, god forbid we lose a customer. That’s why I came up with my own personal policy, I spit in their drinks.

Third drawer down in my desk is where I keep a quarter of weed and a gun. I’m not some gang banging hood rat, but, after Raz told me about the previous tenant he let me hold one of his pieces. I guess it makes me feel a little safer although, I’m not sure I would ever have the guts to use it. It’s the pot I’m reaching for right now instead. I’m at the point of needing to smoke a joint right before work or I won’t show up. I take a few pulls from the joint before I put my uniform on. Black slacks, white button down Oxford shirt, deep red silk tie, and an apron that reaches down to my black crew shoes. My name tag says Jane. I don’t know a Jane. My name is Lorelei.

I pick my phone up from the floor and finally check my missed calls. I’ve had 13 missed calls in the last two hours. Six of the calls were from a guy I’ve been seeing the past few weeks but, over the last few days I’ve lost all interest in him. Early in the week he come over to watch a movie and we order Chinese food. I don’t know if I had just never noticed before or what but, I could hear him chew every bite. That was it. As soon as the movie ended I was “really tired and have to get up early tomorrow morning, you can let yourself out!” Poor guy. I’ll send him a text later letting him know I’m now a lesbian.

A few of the other calls were from random friends that I probably won't get back to this week. Two calls were from Steve, one of the other servers at work. I’m not friends with anyone on staff so, I know he’s not calling to be social. I was curious to hear what he wanted.
“Hey Steve, you called?”
“Yeah Jane, I was wondering if we could switch shifts. I’ve got this thing on Sunday and Brian won’t take me off the schedule. He’s such a prick!” Steve has a southern accent but I’ve never asked him where he’s from.
“Sure, whatever.” I don’t sound too excited but really I’m thrilled. “My shift starts at 6.”
“Thanks girl, you’re real doll!” I wonder where he’s from but I still don’t ask. I hang up and collapse onto my bed. No work tonight. What ever will I do?

Being Single Causes Alcoholism

One of the main reasons I ended my last relationship was due to my strong curiosity with the single life. After spending nearly a decade as a girlfriend I began fantasizing about answering to no one and living free to do as I please. As a woman in my twenties, with two long-term situations under my belt, I felt I owed it to myself to be alone for a while. What I've come to realize is, being single is dangerous. At least it is for me.

Single people consume massive amounts of alcohol. It's true! Almost every time I interact with a fellow single, liquor is involved. Perhaps I happen to know a lot of drunks, or perhaps - and this is the one I'm going to go with - single people have nothing better to do than drink, get drunk, and attempt to get laid. Amidst this drinking and attempting, I am somewhere wandering around, wondering what the hell is going on. I equate being single to nothing more than liver sabotage.

Ok, maybe I'm making things seem worse than they really are. Although I'm exhausted, and probably permanently intoxicated, the past year has most definitely been fun. I've truly enjoyed getting all of the crazy out of my system by doing whatever the hell I want. It's been nice not worrying if my actions will screw with anyone else's head. I can make out with whomever I want, whenever I want, and no one gets hurt. The problem is, to remain single I have kept people at arms length so attachments do not develop, and as time goes by, this is becoming harder. So hard in fact, I'm actually repulsed with being single.

It's not as if I'll jump into the first set of arms that'll take me. Not at all! This time around I am super picky, which doesn't mean good things for potential suitors. Within the first five minutes of meeting a guy I've already decided whether or not I'm interested in pursuing something more than my usual mind games. Usually I don't want anything more, usually. Lately though, I've been feeling unusual.

Being as "alternative" as I am, I'm having trouble relating to the people around me. No one seems to really understand or get me. I'm becoming increasingly frustrated with the isolation I have unintentional forced myself into. I feel friendless in the world. Sorry friends, it's true. I'm tired of the bullshit routine each weekend but, what's a girl to do? I can't force a connection with someone. I guess I'll just have to wait it out. And another shot gets poured.

A Reasons to Stay Home Tonight

Last night!!

Dia de Trabajo

Moments pass as I look beyond the window, their window, before my thoughts become obsessed with running away. What kind of life is fulfilled while bound by confinement? What type of creature is satisfied with isolation? What would I be if I complied?

My hand begins to shake as I wipe frustration from my lips. I have said too much. At least no one is listening. My banging against the window, their window, disturbs no soul. At last, there is no one listening. No one hears a sound. No one sees me run. No one should be so privileged.

Team Edward vs Team REALITY

Edward Cullen of 'Twilight' is today’s perfect man. He is intelligent, witty, strong, sensitive, protective, beautiful, telepathic, and a fictional character in a book. Regardless of obvious reality, his image has crept into the minds of girls and women across the globe and seduced them into longing for what is truly unobtainable, the perfect man. Unfortunately, he is neither human nor real.

Facebook seems to be just the right environment to grow and sustain obsession. You can join any type of group you want to display your unhealthy desires, and if you can’t find the perfect association to do so, you might as well just create one of you own. Here are a few examples of groups that the hopelessly detached can join.

Dazzled by Edward Cullen

I’m In Love With Edward Cullen

I Want an Edward Cullen for Christmas

I Don’t Care if He’s a Blood Sucking Monster

I Want an Edward Cullen!

I Wish Edward Cullen Was Real

Edward Cullen Lovers Unite

Edward Cullen, Sexier Than You Since 1901

Why…Because He’s No Edward Cullen…That’s Why

I Have Trouble Realizing Edward Cullen is Just A Fictional Character

Edward Cullen and Bella Swan Gave Me Unrealistic Expectations About Love

And many, many more.

While it is completely unrealistic to expect a man to possess superhuman strength, or look like a pristine 17-year-old boy for eternity, perhaps there is something to this Edward Cullen craze. Maybe the ladies are a little tired of being taken for granted. Maybe a little chivalry and courtship are needed in these times of economic distress, constant war, ass-smacking, breast baring days of lost morality. Maybe this obsession is less to do with Edward Cullen, and more to do with finding safety and unconditional love. Although these fanatical females are in dire need of a reality check, it could be a signal for today’s real-live human man to kick it up a notch. A little fantasy could be a real good thing! ;)

Burn Him At the Stake, Or the Pizza Oven

You know those days when you’re hung over and tired, watching the minutes pass until you can finally leave work and return to bed? Yesterday was one of those days for me. Oh my bed, so soft and comforting. Blankets too. Isn’t it fantastic when instead of going home after work, a Domino’s delivery gut drives into your car??

They Make Pills For This Sort of Thing

I have had an intense felling of anxiety since late last night. I can't figure out what is causing the disruption of my usual tranquility. I suppose it could be all of the pent up aggravations I have internalized to maintain my typically calm demeanor. Maybe it is my sixth sense warning me of impending change. Whatever it is, I am on edge.

I know now, because I have felt this before, that as long as I do not allow the anxiety to fully consume me, in a matter of time I will snap back. But this feeling of purgatory can be relentlessly cruel as I try to create any sense of normalcy today. I am on the fucking edge.

Even my body seems to be rebelling against order. I feel queasy and ill. I am bitting my nails again and, I haven't done that in years. I am like a word on the tip of your tongue, a thought that itches the brain. I am the edge.

Love Is A Four Letter Word, Allegedly!

What is love?
I wonder this. Is overwhelming passion for another person nothing more than chemicals and reactions crossing through frames of mind as biological desires take over? Is love an intangible spirit possessing my entire existence, seeping through the faults of my emotions, and staining my soul dedicated? I wonder sometimes what sets the reaction of love off in me. I think about what it is that ignites the questions I pose while interrogating my own lust…I mean love.

What is the difference between love and being in love?
Love you feel. In love you are.

Do I love?
How can I ever be certain if what I think I feel is actually love? Sometimes I don’t even think a person like me is capable of intimately caring about anything besides my own well being. But then, just as I give up on that which I secretly need, a rush of enlightenment reveals to my imagination that positively, I can and do love.

Have I ever been in love?
I know I’ve loved before because I have felt it. I also know that I have never really been in love before because the feeling I had when I thought I was is no longer present. Miscalculations I guess. Mixing chemicals can be dangerous and may lead to severe intoxication. I had the wrong formula the entire time. No, I have never really, truly been in love.

Can I be loved?
Will I ever find that special someone to tolerate all that I am? I am a lot! Sometimes I think I might be too much. Sometimes I think I will always be alone. I don’t want just anyone to want me. Not those guys that hang around me, wondering what I am and how to get me, acting as if I’m like other typical girls. These guys can’t love me. But still I hear a little voice, and I can’t control it, that talks me into believing, eventually, I will find this elusive love.

Will I allow it?

My Facebook Status Currently Is:

Krysta is slowly falling into a coma! Or have I already??

The Truth Is

I don't care who reads this. I don't even care if it gets read. I have a few things on my mind today.

1. Although I am happy with the direction I am heading, I am getting slightly car sick. Are we there yet?
2. I am tired of smiles to my face, whispers behind my back, and underestimations in your thoughts.
3. I despise my own hatred.
4. My happiness waxes and wanes
5. We are all lairs. If you say you are not, you are lying!

Well, I feel much better now.