hey lady...

I heard a man talking to his lady friend earlier this morning. He kept telling her that she was beautiful but she would look better with a new rack. The woman just kept the same sad face on. I felt sorry for her. I've been there before, not regarding my breast size, but I have had my fair share of men and women tell me that there is something about me that could be improved. I feel sorry for women, despite the fact that I really don't like a lot of them. Women are in that constant state of fear that something about them, some little thing, doesn't look perfect. They may have beautiful eyes but their hair may not look up to par or perhaps they have legs for miles but they're lacking the upper body to match it.

Why are women always concerned with how they look in the eyes of others?

freedom is coming soon

My mind is going crazy lately. The idea of California is still incredible to me but it's so scary. I don't want to end up out there and then screw myself over. 112 days until I'm out of Kentucky.

Will I make it successfully in the land of the unknown adulthood or will I just end up being another dreamer who ended up in a nightmare?

It's still the same crew going on this venture: Patrick, Matt, and I. It's definitely going to be a huge growing/learning experience and I couldn't be happier to embark on this journey with Patrick by my side. I'm not being unrealistic about this whole boyfriend situation. I know we'll more than likely get out there and be fine for a while but more likely than not, we'll meet women who are much remarkably attractive. We'll both end up being modern day Bukowski's. But regardless of the inevitable future, it'll be nice to go out there with someone who's just as eager as I am and someone who I can trust.

112 days can't go by quick enough.

love don't live here anymore

You always assume that when in a relationship, love is this inevitable thing will happen to both parties and all will be well but what happens when it's not? It's not that I don't believe in love or have this huge, undying hatred for it because I had "Daddy-issues" as a child but I just don't find it to be something that easy. I hear far too many people just blurt it out like it's nothing and it confuses me. Love is supposed to be this feeling of deep affection and adoration and yet people are all too willing to share this word with someone they've just met.

In my personal opinion, it seems this "love" nonsense has just become something for us to use when we need someone's attention. I've never said, "I love you" to anyone that I actually meant it to besides one exception but that's another story for another day.

My point is, I don't understand how we've managed to go from love being this powerfully incredible feeling that was saved for those who really meant and deserved it to something that we exchanged out for "good-bye". Don't get me wrong, I don't have much room to speak on this subject due to my lack of knowledge and compassion for people but at least I don't waste my words on people who don't deserve them. That's the worst crime of all in my book: wasted words.

cocaine identity

It seems I'm starting to lose touch with who I am more and more each day. I used to worry about it to such a disgusting degree but the more I think about it, the less I care. The more I fight this battle of identity the more I see how the score will never start to adjust itself in my favor. I never expected to be where I am today. I have too many addictions to keep up with and manage to hurt everyone around me but I don't care. My lack of emotion is overwhelming and as I write this now, I realize that I don't even care about the things I love to do anymore, they've just become habits.

I rarely leave the house anymore, or at least I try not to, in order to break away from the evils that will eventually destroy me but the whispers of ladies with power are far too tempting to confine me. Everyone around me keeps wondering why my health seems to be getting rapidly poor but I snap back with absurd answers. My brain no longer works they way it once used to and all I do is try to fight for it back. I've managed to lose those who said they cared about me but I figure if they actually cared, they would have stuck around.

Long story short, I've used and lost so many identities over the years. Cocaine keeps becoming sweeter as I keep changing and no one can catch up anymore, not even myself. I don't know which me I have created is the real one but I no longer care to find out. I just crave the desire to feel real again. I miss the sensation of air rushing through my lungs and actually getting emotional over something good as opposed to just becoming pissed off.

Some day I'll see myself and realize just how horrible I am and that's the day when I'll figure it out but for now, I'll just wait until that mirror finds me.

California and Two Gallants eases the mind

So now, apparently, I'm going to be going to california with Patrick (the boyfriend) and his buddy as well as mine, Matt. Sounds like a good time to me minus the fact that Patrick is highly irresponsible sometimes but Matt handles things well so hopefully both of us can keep him in check. I can't wait to do this. It still isn't real to me. But enough about California.

I recently discovered Two Gallants and have fallen in love.

oh hey dream... let's do something about you.

I talked to a friend today who informed me that he was moving to California in 11 days, Los Angeles to be specific. This was interesting news to hear considering that last night, the girl I was planning to go to California with bailed on me.
"My dad said I should move out of the house here first. It makes more sense." Fine then. So be it. I'm more than willing to pack up my bags and maybe a person and head out west to Sausalito (maybe Trinidad?) by myself.
Here's the thing - I need out of here more than I need air. I've been programmed since I was born to move around as much as possible, be nomadic. Yet somehow, I've been stuck in Kentucky since 2nd grade. My time is up here. I can't spend another minute in the Bluegrass state of horses and tobacco. It's not that I don't like horses, they're pretty creatures, and tobacco happens to be one of my many weaknesses but Kentucky...
So here is my plan: collect as much money as physically possible. That means finding a job sometime in the near future in good ol' Kentucky as well as applying for summer camp jobs to get a quick and easy couple hundred dollars. While I'm working with kids whom I'll no doubt hate, my parents will be collecting too much furniture for me that I'll sell once I get to California. I'm also going to try to find things that will not be necessary to take with me to Sausalito and sell those items for as much as humanly possible. I need to start looking for jobs out west.
Even though I lost my partner in crime in this venture, I'm still going to rough through it and travel the 1 day and 14 hour distance to start over somewhere new. I can become a completely different person. Hell, I can create a new identity.
"Hello, my is Isabelle DeAngelo and I'm from Mars. Nice to meet you."
Don't get me wrong though. I'm not leaving because I need an identity change or because my life is so terribly bad. I just simply need something new: new inspiration, new people, new environment, new everything. I love some things about this God forsaken place but I'm sure I would love lots of things about a brothel, that doesn't mean I should live there.
Long story short, I'm getting out of here. You're welcome to join me.

pantsburg fever

I'm getting ready to go to the middle-of-nowhere today with an old flame in order to see a new one. I fear the awkward conversation I'm about to have for an hour and a half. Who knows? Maybe it won't be awkward and I'm just being silly, but nevertheless, the fear is still in my head. I should be packing right now but this mood and music is bringing me down.
Mr. Hank Williams, you sure do know how to bring a gal into the bottom of the bucket.
The flowers I received from a lover that shouldn't be around are slowly dying. I'm not sure why this makes me sad but I can't help but think that when they die, she'll be gone too. I by no means love the girl. I save that word for special occasions that are usually induced by alcohol but she does mean a lot to me.

Ah, Mr. Old flame called. He's lost in downtown Lexington. Considering he's a country boy from a town that has a population of less than 2,000 I'm pretty sure he's screwed. Now is a perfect time for a shot of whiskey...