Saturday, December 25, 2010

merry mundane

Work, work, work. Two thirty to ten thirty every day. Sometimes I just want to quit, but I hear money's nice. I wish things were easier.
On another note- Happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, and all that. Here's a poem.

Long and dark and dramatic- like us.
Fuchsia and lime green lips open and close
And talk like chocolate pudding.
Our dresses muffle the sound of our
Growling, groaning stomachs
And we pose. Smile.
Clicking pumps against the marble floors
We are goddesses.
We are worshiped in Vogue and Elle
And no one will forget us.
We have been cemented.
Full skirts with floral patterns on our ribs and
Tiny little laxatives in our colon.
We are perfect.
The click, click of the cameras
Reminds us that we are more real than
Those running errands on the streets,
Running around in circles on their feet-
We are worshiped.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

good eat enough to eat

“What cute kids you have!”
Your benign comment rips open the stitches of my cancerous memory wounds
I could just eat them up
devour them,
One by one, with a spork,
Feasting on their adorableness
Shoveling them down my lonely empty gullet
And filling my belly with happy.
Making myself plump with your joy.
What? Is that not the way it works?
Because that’s my first instinct.
I mean, after the one that screams
“I hate you.”
I hate the fact that you have the swollen belly
Of a rambunctious pregnant woman
Who downs chocolate sundaes like Tylenol.
Brimming with life while I sit robbed of that glow
I hate your pristine smile, happy lips,
Bright eyes looking toward whatever the
Future may be for you-
My future was ruined.
I hate how happy you are. What you expect is exactly what I was expecting. Expecting to hold someone closer to your heart than you ever could. Expecting to add one more to your Norman Rockwell scene, painting an entire future in your mind’s eye for a pre-life cookie cutter child baking in your oven.
The pitter patter of undercooked baby batter runs rampant through the empty halls of expecting in my broken hearts shattered memories of expecting
Do you know what loathing is?
It’s seeing your joy, and your offspring springing around and from you, dressed in envy-green jerseys set and ready to play the ultimate game of life, each identical, sporting their allegiance to team Family.
Images of your happy content and ignorantly smug face being boxed and beaten with the sorrow of accident flicker through my mind as I put you in my shoes for an unwanted macabre justice from the unintended unfuture of my own.
Jam it between your finger tips
And up your eyeballs and in your
Hairy cunt.
I want you to know what it’s like
To loose everything- and maybe that way
You won’t flaunt your perfect life
And you’ll slow down and really,
Truly, see.

On September 10th, we're having a burial ceremony for Chatham, since that was his due date. We're burying a rosebud and lighting candles, casting circle. . . Hopefully it'll be closure. We're also picking up a baby blanket and giving it to a baby born on the 10th as a way to commemorate him.


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

dear heart

Sometimes I wish you'd fucking stop beating already, and others I'm glad you've stuck through everything with me.

Today was a hard, hard day. For some reason that I can't comprehend people fall in love with me. A lot.

Naturally, that's appealing, but it's also hurtful.

Sometimes you've got to choose between two people, and that can tear you and those two people apart.
Please tell me I'm normal for being hurt by my own decision. I don't know how my life will end up, and I know there's lots of ways it could, but who's to say one path is better than the other?

It's all so confusing, and I wish there was a roadmap, but I guess winging it will have to do.

I've spent most of the evening crying. Over the hurt I undoubtedly caused others and over the fact that I feel like I've ruined everything.

Two friendships that once were stable are now in shambles because I'm a huge flirt.


Saturday, July 17, 2010

fiction, it's been forever

She went searching for herself at the bottom of a bottle of a thick brown poison advertised at 40 proof, and as she traveled she’d find herself farther and farther away from her destination. Phrases from an Sylvia Plath poem were set on an infinite loop as background noise to inner monologues of failure.

Every night was a new bottle, a new search, and would always seem to end the same, lonelier at a bigger party with more people, smoking this or that in hopes of something real. Rock bottom was where she was headed but she could never hit it hard enough. She’d wake up beside a boy, under a man, a strange room, a new couch, never a step closer to end of a journey, to something real.

Will write soon. . . Life moves so fast, I'm trying not to get dizzy as well as hold on. Cool news coming, details soon. :]


Tuesday, March 9, 2010


Spring's here.

The drizzle, windy, spotless perfection of it all.

It kind of snuck up on me. I mean, I've been expecting it (more like hoping for it) for about a month already, imagining birds chirping and buds on the trees but. . Finally, it's actually here.

Even though I'm sort of dreading spring, since it was supposed to be when my baby bump was supposed to appear and when all those cute belly-outlining dresses were to make their appearance, I'm still glad it's here.

It just makes me smile.

Lately most days have been spent out on the porch, smoking and talking to the sun, the moon or the trees (once I even tried super hard to light a pine cone on fire with my brain. . didn't work). It's magical.

Sometimes as the nicotine hits my bloodstream and my limbs start to feel heavy I imagine that now that Chatham's gone and become part of the Earth Mother he's part of everything I see. Birds flying around, squirrels flirting, branches waving. . . Oh, I know it's probably silly but it makes me feel better. He's now part of life- in a different way than I had ever intended (or hoped, or dreamed!). But still, he's happy. How can you not be when you skip past the shit of life and head straight for the heaven that is nature?

If I focus really hard, I can drown out the unbearable noise of the buses and cars with the still hum of the earth. Beauty.

So the snow's melted and the flowers are on their way and I'm sitting on the couch heralding them with my clicking words. I do believe this is how life should be lived.

It'll be ok, right?

Yeah, everything will be fine.


Maybe Earth's trying to teach me to enjoy the chaos and uncertainty as well as the perfection. There is beauty in pain, you know. Especially when you look back.

I'd even go so far as to say that the greatest beauty is that which has overcome hardship to get to where it is now. Like spring. If it weren't for the death the Earth went through to get to where it is right now- it wouldn't be as beautiful. . in fact, it wouldn't be at all.


Sunday, March 7, 2010

un-becoming a mother

Give me back my baby.

There's baby socks, baby books and a tiny little onesie in our apartment. Sometimes I'll take them out and just cry. I try not to tell JP because he's got enough going on without me being miserable. Alcohol, cigarettes and music are my consolation. . . no- they're my distractions.

It's hard, you know. I mean . . other than how hard you think it may be. It's harder. There were the physical effects, chunks of stuff just falling out, seeing Chatham amidst the bloody mess that was his home, the rolling around the bed crying "Oh God, it hurts". . And there's the remembering.

I was sitting out on the porch smoking and watching the rain and thinking about Mothers Day. When I was pregnant with him, I was super excited anytime someone sent me a "mommy" forward. . and I couldn't wait till mothers day. So- now what am I? I mean, I was a mother, sort of. I considered myself one anyways.

I guess now I'm not a mother. How does one un-become a mother? Not physically, but otherwise. I was a mother, but now I'm not. . . Jesus.

Oh sure, now I can drink again and stuff like that. . but who cares? I complained about it while I was pregnant but the truth is I would give up alcohol forever if I could have him back.

I didn't know him, but he was part of me. It's hard to explain. I's like loosing part of yourself- but even more than that. It's like. . loosing something that's more than just you, that's more than everything good in the world.

Maybe it's because I'm still hormonal, or maybe it's because I'm a jealous bitch, but before the oneness I felt with other mothers (especially ones who were still pregnant) has now turned into this terrible hungry jealousy. It hurts so much. I know it's not- but it feels like they're rubbing it in my face. . . "Look at what I can do. . you can't do this."

And you can't forget. You just can't. The memories you have may not be of the baby's first cry, or their first laugh or tooth. . . but the ones you do have are stuck on repeat. They loop over and over again in your head reminding you of what you've lost.

When a baby arrives,
be it for a day, a month, a year or more,
or perhaps only a sweet flickering moment-
the fragile spark of a tender soul
the secret swell of a new pregnancy
the goldfish flutter known to only you-
you are unmistakeningly changed...
the tiny footprints left behind on your heart
bespeak your name as Mother.

-Kimberly de Montbrun

Friday, March 5, 2010

suicide prevention

In Illinois, suicide is the 12th leading cause of death. There are almost 3 suicides a day. Those 79 years and older are at highest risk for committing suicide.

Statistics show that suicide is either the 2nd or 3rd leading case of death for teenagers (they're not sure because many times suicide is covered up for the sake of the family as an "accident", which in my opinion is stupid because it screws up statistics- a lot).

Obviously this is a problem. We've got to do something to either fix it or at least alleviate it.

Sometimes it feels daunting in the face of so many suicides and so many people who may be showing heavy depression symptoms, but there are a few things that will help reduce the suicide rate if people take them seriously.

First(and the one I feel is most important) is know the signs! It really doesn't take Sherlock. Depression, apathy, decreased or increased appetite, giving away treasured personal belongings. . . It's pretty easy.

Second, if you notice signs, do something. It may not be "just a phase". And even if it is, what if that's that individuals last phase. Grow up. Don't blame it on their need for attention- if they're so depressed that they are thinking about permanently ending their life there is something that needs to be paid attention to!

Thirdly, many times suicidal individuals don't see death as final. This sounds weird, but stick with me. Every time I've considered suicide I just wanted a way out, but not necessarily death. But I didn't see the difference at that point because anything seemed better than what I was going through. Usually a suicidal person will realize this right after they've done something lethal such as swallowed pills or jumped off the bridge. At that moment clarity sets in and they (usually) realize that life isn't worth giving away for something that will pass eventually. So. . . try to get anyone that you recognize suicide warning signs in to realize this- but don't count on it. It's oftentimes too hard to see in the haze of depression.

Fourthly, do what you think is right based on the situation. There have been people who I've known who go to parents of an individual or bosses and report that that person may be suicidal. Sometimes it is, but sometimes it isn't. In my case- it wasn't. It actually made this a gazillion times worse. Sometimes the right thing to do is go to a teacher or professor, and others it's right to just call the police and report them as suicidal. It all depends on the situation (including personality, severity symptoms/depression, etc).

Fifth, be nice. Don't look down on the person or anything because they're having a hard time. Chances are, if you haven't felt suicidal before, you may in the future, and you wouldn't want someone to think condescendingly about you. Do unto others; just keep it in mind.

For more good stuff (as always!) take a look at .

This website helped me come up with numbers and stuff:


Friday, February 26, 2010


The last week or so has been. . . terrifying. I had a miscarriage and it’s just been one blow after another. Between fending off panic attacks and worrying about everything, I thought I’d take time to write a blog. Sort of. More like post a poem and update you guys.

I’m a little worried about my Uncle Jed. I had written him in January when JP and I told my parents that I was pregnant, and he never responded. After three texts and an email he finally said he’s thinking about me and he needs to get to sleep so goodnight. Hmm. The consensus in my brain right now is that he just took the news really badly- worse than my parents did. I would have NEVER imagined this.

On the 12th JP, our friend Gordon and I are leaving for a comicon (nerdy, I know) in Seattle. This’ll be my first time home in about three years, and I’m super excited. We were going to tell my grandparents and great aunt about Chatham (the baby) then, but after the miscarriage I emailed my aunt and told her what had been going on. I expected the usual “Oh, my. I’m sorry” stuff with a little advice or something but instead she said she wasn’t sure whether to be glad or dismayed about the miscarriage. . . . . Umm . . .Why would you ever be glad that someone lost their child? Just wondering.

I don’t know. I guess I was expecting people to be more supportive. Maybe I’m doing something wrong. . . Actually- I’m not doing much at all other than trying to keep sane at the moment. It’s really not easy, and I know this sounds like every other blog I’ve written but it’s true.

Chatham and the idea of having something to protect and be healthy and good for was (I feel) what I needed. I never felt happier in my life. I was eating right (and only complaining a little bit about weight gain) and I was super, super excited. It’s different to get healthy for something outside of yourself. There’s real motivation there. I didn’t want my child to grow up in a home where his parents were too selfishly sick to take care of him or her. I know what that’s like and I didn’t want it for my child.

So, yeah. Anyways, we’re going to Seattle in a couple weeks. We’re doing comicon, my great aunt’s birthday dinner, Bethel (that’ll be interesting!!) and hopefully some sights like the Space Needle and Pikes Place. It’ll be good to be back.
JP and I are also talking about moving away from Springfield. I guess we need a change- or just need to get away from all this familiar business because it reminds us of Chatham. We thought about Seattle, Pennsylvania and basically anywhere else, but right now we’re leaning towards moving in with Gordon and maybe JP’s younger brother Pete somewhere near Jacksonville so I can go to IC for another year. Pete might go to IC, and his decision is mainly influenced by the fact that we’re nearby and that I go there- so he’ll know someone on campus. This would be pretty short term- about a year or so- while JP and I save money to go on a one-year road trip to . . everywhere. While we lived with Gordon and Pete, JP and Gordon would work on their web comic and hopefully get that running.

I know it’s a lot, and probably it’s too much too soon, but it feels like something needs to change.

Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote a couple of days ago. It hasn’t been edited or anything yet.

Empty- different this time.
Instead of stomach growling, contracting, contorting,
There’s nothing where a child once was.
This hurts more.
It’s not self-inflicted chaos to hold myself together,
This is ripping, tearing, searing empty.
Hold my belly and roll around the bed,
Panic, smoking, heavy and worst of all
No closure to this story.
No ending, just a flush of the toilet
And a spiraling grave.
His name was Chatham
And he was perfect.
Empty before my time
And it hurts like hell, girls.
All the baby clothes and tiny socks,
The slings, cribs, sippy cups, maternity clothes,
The floor, the ceiling and Spring-
They all remind me of the empty
That now resides where the full used to
Wiggle his toes, wrinkle his nose,
Thumpthumpthump his heart and then
One day- empty.

Friday, February 12, 2010


I stopped at the accounting desk to pick up my check today and it turns out they had 4 checks for me. One was my regular work check, and the other three were refund checks.
For the last few weeks I've been really worrying about money and wondering how we're going to go to Seattle and pay for the baby and all that stuff. . . but the fates have been kind and now I've got about 3 grand that will be (mostly) saved!

Monday, February 8, 2010

ten minutes of work left

So, this will have to be quick but I have news.
On Thursday (hopefully!) Chatham or Tally will have their first "baby pictures" taken. We're going to a Crisis Pregnancy Center (story to follow) and they will refer us to a place that has an ultrasound machine.
Now- I called like 2 different hospitals (Memorial and St. John's) and like 50 gazillion OB/GYN's.
Memorial said that they were booked for 2 months. Well, by that time I would have been like 6 months pregnant! That's 2/3's of the pregnancy gone by without any medical supervision.
St. John's was my favorite. I called the obstetrics department and they said (and I quote): "I'm sorry, we're a hospital we don't hire doctors." . . . . . . . . . 'Scuse me? Huh? What? There is not even a smidgen of sense in that sentence.
Anyways- so that left us with trying to find a place that would take just money and not insurance or a medical card for an ultrasound. Until I found out it cost forever and a day . . so, my dad told me about these people connected with the home church he goes to that run a CPC in Jacksonville.
They don't have an ultrasound but they can give us a free referral to one. So- yay!
Using the ultrasound, the doctor can figure out exactly how many weeks prego I am, so I can put it on the Moms & Babies form and finally!!! get insurance.
So. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Other than that things have been good.
I haven't been hungry at all, which has caused my blood sugar to drop a few times, making me dizzy. Whoops. So, I'm trying to eat snacks throughout the day whether I'm hungry or not.
My roommate and I have a Japanese host student that will be living with us for about a month, which will be interesting. We're supposed to do all these activities with them but that will be mostly Mouna's job, since she decided we're getting a host student without asking me. Plus, even though I feel bad for not being around as much as I should be, I really need to take care of myself and this baby. That's my first priority and if anyone gives me shit about it, well, that's too bad. They'll have to deal with it.
So- Hopefully around Thursday you guys will get to see the babies first pictures. Here's a hint: it will look like a blob.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

oh, baby

I am pregnant.
About 9 weeks, so far.
My boyfriend and I are super excited, and my parents are slowly warming up to the idea of a grandchild.
You probably already new this. :]
So- yeah.
That's the big news.

Monday, January 18, 2010

the ballad of no-moneyness

My phone gave up the ghost yesterday at around 1 am.
I cried.
Not only is my phone my life (it shouldn't be, but it is), but it's my alarm clock, password-keeper, friend-connector, email, facebook and. . well, distraction from the outside madness.
Now, I have no phone, and it will take approximately 79 dollars plus shipping to get a new battery, I have no alarm clock (for the time-being) and no way to rant about lack of money to my friends.
Aside from my phone, I have no money for books this semester, because governemnt aid only helps out during the first semester, annnnnd I have an outstanding balance of like -45.something on my bank acount because I went like 3 cents over an app on iTunes (IT WAS A STUPID APP ANYWAYS! :().
Needless to say, my life sucks.
How's your life?

On the upside, the only upside, I'm having dinner with a very nice gentleman tonight, my boyfriend is awesome and I may see Rachel tonight. Oh, and I have no clue where my roommate is. And there's food available all the time- which is making me extraordinarily happy.
But that's it.
And I tend to worry WAY too much about money- and insurance shit which I'm working on at the moment.
Plus, tax day is coming up- and we all know how much Annie hates tax day!

I was trying to think of an inspirational quote to put on my whiteboard today and I couldn't think of a single thing.

Yay life.


Sunday, January 10, 2010

today was beautiful

Hi strangers.
This last week has been incredibly stressfull and full of surprises- but Monday is only two hours away, and with Monday comes a new week.
U2 is playing. My toes are incredibly warm.
Here is something I wrote about a month ago, it's called Jackie.
Next blog will contain important news.

Jackie walked the rocky shore looking for any shells that were more than fragments. Sometimes she’d step on oysters that had burrowed in the ground and they shot water at her. Other times, she’d find pieces of glass who’s edges had been softened by the constant polishing of the water and sand. Those were her favorite. They were green, pink, brown, clear- you could find any color if you were lucky enough. Once she had found a blue one, and had held it up to the sky. The colors had matched, and she had giggled. This just reaffirmed her belief that the sky was part of the ocean, and the ocean part of the sky. Maybe she had come up with that all on her own, or maybe she had read that the ocean would not be blue if the sky didn’t reflect off of it in some science book, but somehow that had become ingrained in her brain. It felt true.
Sometimes things feel true, like marshmallows in hot chocolate, or the sound pine trees make when they wave in the wind. Nothing can persuade you from them; or their essence. Jackie’s dad said that was called god. That he was everywhere and in everything all at the same time.
Jackie bit her fingernails. She’d tried to stop, and her mother had put chilli pepper juice on her fingers to discourage her, but Jackie would always wash it off. Maybe it was a nervous habit. Maybe it was an oral fixation, but one thing that always puzzled Jackie was that every time she was by the ocean she stopped biting her nails. There was no real explanation, nothing about the little apartment her family stayed in while they visited this part of the coast was different from her house. Peddlers still sold crazy knick knacks just outside their door, and fishermen would roll their fish carts around early in the morning and shout out what kind of fish they had. Maybe it was the salt that somehow integrated into her body or the fact that she didn’t have time to sit and chew. But somehow, something was different.
Her hair had a curly, Shirley Templeish look, but it looked unmanageable. There were tiny pieces of drift wood and maybe even seaweed stuck to the back of it. She walked with her stomach stuck out, making her spine curve, and making her seem like she was trying to draw attention to the little tank top with a yellow sun on it that she was wearing. She may have had underwear on, but then again, she liked walking around the house stark naked, so there was a definite possibility that she had none on. You couldn’t tell, though, because the tank top reached to about the middle of her thighs.
Her parents had always had trouble trying to find clothes that fit her right. They said she’d always been small, being born at only 4 pounds 6 ounces and growing slower than normal after that. This tank top was an XXS in child sizes, and their only option was to go to toddler sizes next.
She held one of her hands in a fist, protecting her most valuable shells and pieces of glass, and in the other she carried a sand bucket, partially filled with sand, pebbles and wood, but also dripping water out of the bottom. Every once in a while, when the water stopped dribbling on her toes, she’d walk to the shoreline and dip the bucket in again, making sure that none of her treasures fell out. Then she’d start off again, in a silly little gait that was half run and half walk- kind of a trot. If you had asked her, she would have told you she wasn’t sure where she was going.
She may have said that she wanted to go to the edge of where her eyes could see; to just keep walking and walking until she was at that little point where the land disappears into the sky. That day, she may have just been trying to find a good spot to build a sandcastle. She was never good at making them, because she’d always try to make them too close to the shoreline and they’d eventually be wiped out, but she tried. There were moats and buttresses and when her dad helped her with them, he’d cover her completely up in sand so she’d be a huge mountain range right next to her splendid castle. One buttress was always the tallest, and she never told anyone, but she imagined that that was the princesses room. No one knows why the princess always has to live in the highest room, but it’s true and she always has.
In Jackie’s mind, the princess was dressed in a pink ball gown, with a funny cone-shapped hat on. The hat was pink too. So were the streamers coming from it. The princesses hair was straight and blonde, because Jackie thought blonde was the most beautiful color of hair, and she’d always been jealous of girls with straight hair.
Once in a while she’d bring crackers with her, and munch on them while she dug her toes into the sand as far as she could get them without letting them pop out the other side. Sometimes the seagulls followed her around, and she’d run to try and escape them, but kind of wished they’d come down and be her friends.
Jackie didn’t have any friends, not really. She had a stuffed bear who was a circus bear because she was dressed in a white onesey with different colored polka dots on it. There was also the bear who her parents had taken her picture with when she was just a baby because the bear was bigger than Jackie was and they thought it was funny. If she curled up into a little ball, the bear was still bigger than her. There were also her aunt’s dog and cats.
Animals had always liked Jackie, and she’d never scared any off or gotten attacked by them. Her parents and other adults would warn her to stay away from all the wild animals, but Jackie would always go to them. At times she felt like they were telling her things; stories and secrets. Their eyes were full of something that Jackie couldn’t explain, but she knew it was good- true.

There's an end to this story- I just haven't had the time to finish it. ;]