Prettymesses's Blog

I’m up on a shelf

prettymesses — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 21:43:07 +0000

I’m plodding along- feeling much like last-year’s fashion thrown into the back of the closet. Ignored. Brushed off and made unimportant. Oh well, tis life. C’est la vie.

No, actually, I’m not so aloof as I’d like to appear. I’m screaming inside a bag of lies and knives. I’m suffocating. I’m enraged in the gut and I WANT YOU to know this- I want you to feel every word and I want you to know I MEAN it with every pore in my body fiercely bursting anger…and I want you to CARE.

Running Stream of Consciousness

prettymesses — Fri, 29 May 2009 21:41:44 +0000

In running is my sanctuary. I have total faith in this religion- my heart is exploding, so I know I exist- I take all of my sins with me on slow miles, fast miles, tall mountains and flat country roads…they all lead me to the same thing- contrition. I live in remorse, but sometimes I regret it- make any sense? haha- round and round I go.

I’m most thankful for the absolute inability to stay focused on any one ‘issue’ while running. Yes, i say I run to ‘clear the head’ and ‘pound out’ some particular topic of anxiety. But the truth is, that happens on its own for me- when I finish the run, the brain has worked it all out on its own, and instead, I find that I have actually wandered over many, many brief themes to the crushing cadence of my favorite Mizunos.

The course of a run…

“nice shutters…and her azaleas are awesome… mine died…oh damn, there’s that quad stitch again….shit!….relax- the clouds are awesome….step on a crack, break your mamas back… nice exhaust, dork… Oh wow- almost June… last June I was fatter… I didn’t look good in those pictures from the Flying Pig last year… what did I say wrong? do wrong? I wish he would love me back… Ol five corners- yeah, these people are looking at me- stare ahead… I want to walk- why does mile one suck so bad… I hope no one can see me sneaking a look at self in window haha… thanks for letting me go… put your kid in a damn car seat!… beautiful trees, i love this street… The pedals snow on me- I remember 1999… smells like flowers in the air… Sweating… why is this song on my iPod? reminds me of him- skip!…gotta change my songs…Dale should run, too- he’d lose weight fast… I hate my belly… Am I really 33?… i want a baby… I miss my kids being tiny- I want a baby pool in the yard…sandbox… Do I look old?

Anyway, I’m heading out on a 6 miler in a sec- running with Lori and Amanda in the a.m. for a nine miler. Just bought some of that costs-a-small-fortune KY for ‘his’ and ‘hers’ haha. Let’s see if it can pull me out of my sex-rut!

The Travesties of Traveling in my Temporary Body

prettymesses — Mon, 25 May 2009 13:11:51 +0000

In my earthly travels inside this temporary vessel, I am finding even more so that the mind stays at age nineteen whilst the vessel gets a little cracked and aged. Bleh- sucks. I had the fun opportunity of stepping outside of my comfort and general-personality zone to do something quite moronic- I entered a car show beauty contest (a little bit of food comes up upon fiishing that statement). Out of fun and a need to gat some fast cash, I researched the last year’s contestants and found them pretty….sorry to juge my fellow ladies…. less that beaty-pageant-ish. Now, i know by making that call I am saying that I find myself beautiful, but that’s not true- i just think I had a little more to bring to the table. There were four last year… this year- TEN. The oldest being around 25. I am about to turn 34. Ha! Was great fun, but in the end, the chubby but fresh skinned (and showing lots of it) 22 year old will always trump the old lady, so no harm. What was really cool was that the panel of redneck EMT’s and firefighters that picked were loudly boo’d by the entire audience when I had to leave the stage- that felt good It felt older in a good way for once.

Every few years I enter some sort of phase that becomes permanent change- i can feel it happening now… like a limb suddenly growing or hair getting longer overnight. The shards and mishapen ends of a broken heart are attempting fusion but are leading me down new paths. I think of G. every day. Just as I always have, but now a little more as a sad memory. I was to experience a new consciousness- an awkening. I’m not religious, but I’m feeling a need to connect with myself in a ‘higher’ level of awareness. I want to know what makes me.

I’m getting my first tattoo next week- I really was anal about chosing an artist- I hope he’s done a good job of drawing my design- we’ll see. Big piece- on my ribs under my arm.

Today marks ten years since a young woman, her husband and their friend all took LSD (it was the first out of two times for us) and lost their freaking minds in a Buick along a creepy road- watching our hands get “old”, men with eyeballs falling out of their sockets, the moon swirling around a black sky. We sweat it out in a back-bedroom at y grandparents’ house- all three in a bed- gritty teeth, cartoon channel blarring from a TV. D. slept and G. and I tasted skin. Nervous and exciting- sick from acid, but thrilling any how. It’s exactly what I wished for and didn’t know it. After that, it seemed that our get togethers didn’t involve D.- he was there, but the chemistry between G. and I was always supercharged. I get the same feeling around him ten years later. I wish it would leave me in peace. This vessel is sick with waiting.

My Amazing Collapsible Heart

prettymesses — Mon, 11 May 2009 01:43:08 +0000

I’ve the space-saving convenience of possessing a collapsible heart. Yeah, lucky as hell. It expands and explodes, too, but lately, just pulses and deflates. The last week was rough. My beloved grandmother Dee passed and we buried her yesterday- she was the glue that so often is a grandparent’s position to hold a family together- I just dont know what comes next. My family, large and tempestous, are sure to scatter and it breaks me. What becomes of her family home- our “base”? I’ve never felt more uncertain of my place, purpose and situation in life. Damn, this year has shaken every fiber of my core- In ten months I have lost my Pap, my grandmother, found some new meanings (frightening, confusing, eye-opening, painfully beautiful and awe-inducing) in my life, doubted my marriage, doubted myself, economical and spiritual debt, continued my inner-battle with questioning the existence of God, scarred my heart by falling more so in love with someone I cannot have in this lifetime…. any of this sound familiar? Is this what we do… get knocked around and get up to go another round? Oh, Im strong enough, and others have so much more heartbreak and pain, but right now, mine feels like it is swollowing me- a thick choking presence in my neck- I want to live forever to figure this all out.

My father is a crack addict. The most intelligent man I’ve ever known is addicted to drugs. I’ve always known it inside, but thought he was essentially a depressed, unmotivated, spoiled pothead that cared more about marijuana, gambling, the path to self-enlightenment than he did his wife and little kids (my brother was 8 and I was 12 when he went “back home” to live in his teenaged bedroom at my grandparent’s house. He still lives there, sans the recently desceased. My brother, 30, went out with him for a drink on Tuesday when my grandma passed and the conversation (usually, we both have bland, casual, polite and contained conversations with my father) got honest and slightly confrontational, as my brother S. put it- my father confided that he has been smoking crack for a very, very long time and his girlfrind does too (M. is a very nice woman I have known sinnce birth, a family friend) In addition, he is having a sexual relationship with his closest friend’s wife, a fellow friend and crack addict. Nice. Everything you wanted to learn about your dad in one night. Well, I guess we’ll bury him, too. He’s 53 ands looks like hell- tall, skinny, balding, pale full-Italian man that has what I assume is emphysema. Ugh.

I keep thinking that I will soon have to face that G.’s life is not mine, or a part of mine beyond friendship, and certain things are going to be extraordinarily painful for me in the future- I am not ready to be a buddy that hears about his future sexual endeavours… nope, not at all. I remained calm and friendly when we were casually chatting back and forth about his not having sex in months and how he does not want to ‘hurt anyone” in his pursuit of “figuring his life out”. Yeah- NOT what I care to hear about. I don’t care if his cock falls off and he never has a woman again, personally. He’s not mine. I’m not relegated to position of G-happiness-maker, so I don’t know how to handle it cheerfully. I hope that sort of grace comes to me in time. Damn him for saying, unprompted, that I am his “soulmate”. I never asked him to say he loves me, is in love with me, I’m his dream girl, etc. Maybe he’s on crack with my dad- who says shit like that (THIS IS THREE MONTHS AGO, not three years) then wants to offer info about his personal sex life? ( I could see it with a random pick-up stranger, but I’ve known him as a friend for FIFTEEN years) I can’t take it. We only have longer than a five sentence conversation when one of us or both of us is drunk or medicated (yes, not often). He will be the death of my heart. That, I know for certain. I can’t wash him off- I feel him. UGH. Stupid girl :/

And D…… the most best friend a person could have. I am luckier to have him than I could ever deserve or appreciate. Seriously. Just…. Damn.

Well, folks, that’s my weekend.

…I’m a million miles away/ Will you get this letter / Jagged pulp, sliced in my veins/ I write to remember (At the Drive-In)

Languid Hours

prettymesses — Thu, 07 May 2009 11:52:50 +0000

I hate saying this under the circumstances of my grandmother passing, but not being at work all week has been something I could definitly get used to! Take this morning, for instance… ignored the alarm clock (kids get themselves ready), sat on the porch and watched the morning unfold, dropped kids of, updated all my meaningless social networking sites in a tank top and underwear on the kitchen counter, heading out in a few to run and maybe go swim or lift weights at the Y. Hell, I may go to a late breakfast by myself somewhere. This is freaking awesome.

Funeral home tonight which sucks ass. I hate hanging around the home for a few hours trying to remember names and being emotional, but… the way it goes. Hopefully, someone will want to go out for a drink afterwards- I’m ready for a nice buzz. I need some sex, too.

Raviolis in Heaven

prettymesses — Tue, 05 May 2009 14:12:38 +0000

Somewhere in heaven, if such a place exists, my grandma is arriving (8 am this morning) in a new Cadillac driven by my pap- she’s passing out coats and blankets, making sure there’s no bare legs (she always stuck tights on me when I was little- believed I was cold in August!) Any time now she’ll be putting together enough spaghetti to feed more than Jesus with a loaf of bread and single fish in a mob of people. Pap’s picking tomatoes in an endless salad garden. No doubt, all of heaven’s homeless are there and my Dee’s going to give them every last penny she got. Saint Jude’s making his way to greet his number one fan. LOL

Fuck. I’m going to miss my grandma Dee so much. She was my unconditional cheerleader. My living patron saint. She put diapers, tights and coats on me. Put me through Catholic school. Now, she’s at peace.

Fuck it all

prettymesses — Mon, 04 May 2009 18:32:26 +0000

I’ve got a husband that doesn’t know me and no dear, close friends that truly give a shit. I’ve got a hurting head and I’m dying inside to tell everyone I’m close to exactly what I think…. in fact, this is the only place I can air it out- shake out this fucked up carpet harboring years of dirt swept underneath to make it look tidy. I just got back from a morning at the hospital where my mom and I were told there’s nothing else to do for my grandma Dee and her kidneys will fail in 24-48 hours. She slept under morphine four feet away. Fuck. I’m highly emotional at the moment and needed a half hour to sob, sing, curse and who knows what the fuck. Clean. That’s what makes me feel good- probably got it from ‘her’- banging around dishes at 5am, talking to Saint Jude about some lost cause, eighteen loads of laundry by daybreak. I probably clean and run to get away from everything I can’t fix. Is this all there is to it? Peaks of happiness amid pure unresolved tumoil? “for the best” What’s the best? FUCK. At about 8pm her last dose of morphine will wear off and we will say our goodbyes before they put her on a drip and she slips into eternity. Nice. And ‘he’ only talks to me when one of us or both of us are fucked up in some way. Yay- life is SWELL.

In Circles

prettymesses — Mon, 04 May 2009 12:53:22 +0000

Why are finishes so bittersweet? Some runners look happy, I’m just keeping it together to not cry- I’m such a baby! I finished my fourth marathon yesterday in the beautiful city of bridges, Pittsburgh- was the best marathon yet at all angles- my time was 4:23:25- me and the old fucked up brain and weak body like torture. Was an emotional race, but what isn’t? I’m a mantra kind of person and “Bleed it out” was my theme helped me pull up hills or work emo lumps out of my throat.

At mile 25 I put Coldplay “Clocks” on and ran teary to the finish until I saw my 15 year old daughter leave the spectator barricade, paying no mind to the security whistles, and ran towards her mom in the last stretch. We locked hands, big smiles, and she ran through the finish line with me, keeping me at full sprint. Doesn’t get much better that that. Oh, I’ve got a lot to spill about the run, but I’ll save for my other blog site I feel utterly fucked in the brain, though- been having a hard time- running in circles of thought, contradicting myself, going against my own wishes. It’s like every day is another day to pick and sort through pain and hope, fight doubt and ignore the little voice that says “you’re just not- never will be”.

Feeling It

prettymesses — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 11:40:22 +0000

Authenticity- I’ve felt it out… discovered what’s genuine. I’ve got a lot to give.

I’m floating at high altitude at the moment- I’m above the weather, birds below…. this cloud is pink and silver and I wouldn’t want to be underneath when it dissipates and gives to rain.

For now, I’m riding it out… thankful.

Brain Birth

prettymesses — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 16:04:21 +0000

I’ve gained new perspective lately- broadening my tunnel vision… trying to understand things at a level that is not entirely my own. Sometimes I’ll clear- crystal; it revolves with those moments, fleeting at times (thanks to my dedication to thought-diversion) of utter gray cumulus clouds. The heat and sun has a good bit to do with it… losing the dead-pasty look. I’m solar powered. My happiness combusts above 65 degrees. This whole existence is a game, or a performance, I don’t know- I’m just trying to hold my stage.