"Anna Lucia drinks rum for revenge. Thinks of her cowboy all covered in red. Then she goes dancing."

High point of the week: Sunday 8/2 @ All Points West in Jersey City, trudging through mud and listening to Mogwai and Coldplay. Almost cried I was so happy.

Low point of the week: Realizing that people are disillusioned when they meet me. They think I'm so "different." It happens all the time. Maybe I'm just good at adapting to what people like and once they realize it's not truly me, that's when they get disappointed and leave.

How do I let all of myself show?

How do I let go?

"Testosterone boys and harlequin girls."

Confessions:

+ I have told a guy that I had a baby when I was 17 years old and gave it up for adoption.

+ Had a friend act like a jealous boyfriend to scare off a dumb-as-dirt guy.

+ Told another that I didn't care that his penis was 3 inches long. Erect.

+ Acted like I was interested in what a guy was saying.

+ Lied about how I'd give one guy another chance. (Pfffft.)

+ Faked phone sex. Twice.

+ And the icing on the sweet cake of deceit, "I have herpes," as an answer to, "When are we playing?"

That prevented the 28 year old Manhattan dweller from sending me any more pictures of himself in questionable poses and stopped our conversation completely.

My justification? These guys deserved it.

Just call me Harley Quinn... but a less whiny, more badass Harley Quinn.

Yeah.

P.S. "Harley’s need to be loved, to have company and affection. Her need to be wanted. Her active sex drive!"

"I'd like to see you have your way. C'mon have your way with me."

At work, V.O. tells me stories of her youth.

She is 53 years old and says the funniest things sometimes.

Today, she told me a story about her and her man friend sneaking off during one of their programs to make out in a closet.

Words can't describe the smile on her face as she was reliving it.

Her roommate, S.P. is feisty and a real trouble maker.

At 31 years old she loves the Disney Channel and shrimp.

Yesterday, she was on the phone talking to one of her friends in spanish and asked me, "Emily, do you know spanish?" I nodded and she said, "Ohhhh noooo!"

We go out and smoke cigarettes on their back porch and talk about their days and we had a dance party to "I Got You Babe" when they were doing their chores on Saturday.

Needless to say, I love my job.

"So, fuck you."

It's a liberating feeling to finally let go of the two people that have hurt me the most.

It took a long time, but I'm doing it.

The key is to stay on this path.

I've tried letting go before, but I always relapse.

This time it's for real.

No more, "How are you?" no more, "Happy Birthday" no more, "We should meet up."

In about one week, I'm getting a new phone number.

This summer has been going by way too quickly for my liking, but I've changed so much that I think this summer has been the best.

It's only when we take care of ourselves that we can start truly loving ourselves.

"I am ready to be new again."

Finally.

"Control yourself, take only what you need from it."

The information that was thrown at me today has left me paralyzed.
No amount of crisis counseling training could have prepared me for this.



There are rarely times where I can't verbalize my feelings.
This is definitely one of them.

"Dr. Jekyll is wrestling Hyde for my pride"

DISCLAIMER:
If you know me well, then you might want to skip over this post.
You've already heard my rant about this one.


I've had plenty of "suitors" over the last four years.
They all had excuses for me.
So if you happen to have one, I've heard it all.


Scenario 1:
"It's the distance."
(He lived in Brooklyn. He's now dating a foreign exchange student from Japan.)

Scenario 2:
"I'm gay."
(He lied.)

Scenario 3:
"I wish things were different & that I met you sooner. I'm already in love with my girlfriend & I can't leave her."
(He stayed with his girlfriend for another two weeks and then was on to the next.)

Scenario 4:
"There's someone else."
(I've heard this one a good number of times.)

Scenario 5:
"I'm not ready for a relationship."
(Facebook notice: *blank* is now in a relationship. Oh.)

Scenario 6:
"It's okay. We don't have to have sex. I'll take you home."
(He never spoke to me again. And then told his friends that I was the one who asked him to have sex in his car.)

And, my FAVORITE.

Scenario 7:
" . . . "

If you are wondering why I haven't had a boyfriend, here are the reasons why, according to a boy from Jersey. (Yes this was actually sent to me. The grammar is not my fault.)

"I mean you wonder why a you NEVER had a bf, not knowing much about you I can give you quick examples why,
you fuck on the first night, which gives us nothing to aim for the next time
your still in the phase of omg lets get drunk every night, really not attractive, unless your into one night stands, which you clearly are
your fat .. well not totally just somewhat but guys are shallow pricks
you constantly need attention, I mean your not a fuckin puppy, your 22years old, its ashame the only way you get attention is to spread your legs."

Yeah. I cried about that for days after the fact. And I now have a self-image complex and can't see myself as anything but fat.

Not all of these guys were bad guys. In fact, most of them were really good guys.
Good guys that held my hand and looked into my eyes and told me I was beautiful.
Hah.

Don't hold my hand. Don't kiss my forehead. Don't take me home to meet your parents. Don't look into my eyes and tell me I'm beautiful.
Because I don't fall for that shit anymore.
In a way, I wish I did.

When will the bullshit end?
Actually, the real question is, WILL the bullshit end?

Sorry for the pity party.
I just felt the need.
Now I must drive an angry 2.5 hours upstate.

"Oh, camera take your eyes off of me. 'Cause I know I'll be forgotten in time... just like I want."

All of us leave something behind when we leave this world.
A rotting carcass, of course, but it's more than that.

What will be your legacy?
What will you have contributed to this world?

Will it be in your children?
In the form of the written word?
An inspirational speech.
A song.
Photographs.
An heirloom.

I hope I can leave behind something more than this blog, my journals, my 8,000 song library, a $500 guitar, a closet full of American Eagle clothing, disgustingly worn in Chucks and ridiculous purple sunglasses.

Maybe I'm just being morbid. I do think of these things though.

"WE'RE ALL JUST SKULLS IN THE END."

I'm tired. And as always, I'm hungry.