Was talking with my previous roommate and she asked me if I’ve ever thought about going back to school…  Basically the conversation turned into me justifying my decision to stay in Fargo and work as a CNA.

I’m happy.  I get to take vacations whenever I want, for months at a time.  How many people get to do that?  I couldn’t do the five days a week, two  weeks a year off thing.  I just couldn’t. 

We started talking about the summer and how worried she was that I was becoming depressed then… Honestly I had forgotten all about it.  I was sad this summer. I can’t believe I forgot about that. 

So now I’m thinking too much, trying to figure out why specifically I was so out of it this summer.  Maybe because I didn’t take any solo trips.  Maybe because I didn’t have my own room, or because people kept canceling on me when I tried to make plans. 

Or maybe my brain is just that way.  Sends me down into the abyss sometimes.  It’s okay though.  I can always see the light up there.

Hmm.  Don’t know.

Coming to Terms with my Status as a Drifter

With my recent purchase of an air mattress, I officially am able to fit all my possessions in my Buick ’92.    Almost four years ago when I had my mental breakdown I got rid of SO MANY THINGS and then it was crazy and a symptom of mania.

But now when I do it, it’s normal, and a symptom of my commitment to minimalism.

“Normal”.  Huh.  Anyways my year-long no-new-clothes ban is going well.  Had to buy new shoes for work, but that’s allowed.    Haven’t cheated since I got a  hat and tank top from Minneapolis consignment store gina + will, which was over a month ago.    Regret the hat, but the tank top is black and simple and therefore I’ve been using it every weekend or so.

Two days until our two year anniversary.  More than half of that has been long-distance.

Might have to move there.  I’m so tired of the loneliness.

Have been feeling scattered, perhaps because I have been preparing to be perpetually homeless as of yesterday.  Maybe also because the majority of my heart is in Delhi and I’m here.  Or the fact that I couldn’t get shifts for September and am contemplating OTHER OPTIONS. Such as moving to Minneapolis, thus breaking my heart into more chunks and attempting to transfuse into new soil / or concrete.

I regret the lack of continuity in the post.

I really don’t care enough to fix it.


There is a kind of humility only found in someone who has crashed and burned.

I’m talking really, really, crashed and burned, not a 2-day breakdown, but months/years of bottom-of-the-abyss dwelling.

Haven’t seen it too often, but I really really value that quality (maybe because I see it in myself).  Is it sort of a paradox to acknowledge your own humility? It’s definitely something I hope I can keep up/improve upon.  Pride is nasty.

In other news, I’ll be heading on over to the Sanford Mental Health Unit here in Fargo, to see if I can get a copy of my paperwork / record of my own personal crash-and-burn.  Should be interesting.

Have a song:

And Another:


if you’ve ever heard me begin a sentence with “When I went crazy…”

we’re pretty damn close, friends-wise.

It’s my birthday today.  Thank you to everyone who got me through the past four.

this song is so good to slowjam to.

genetics or you know. Other things.


Thanks to my Grandma, my Dad, and my Mom, I am now:

A clean freak

A cheapskate


And proud of all of it.

Now let’s just hope I inherited some good relationship skills from my other set of grandparents.  Very soon this will be the longest relationship I have ever been in.  Which means from here on out I’m in uncharted waters.

I MADE THIS THING.  My friend saw it, and he’s all “Oh you made rangoli.”  Which I have never heard of before, but so be it!

People keep judging me for liking this song. I don’t care about them.

What Does the Fox Say?

I have to write a 4-6 page piece of nonfiction for my creative writing class.

Was thinking of doing a series of vignettes on my old people (working at a nursing home blah blah blah etc.) but she specified that there HAD TO BE A PLOT which kinda shoots that down.

Other option: write about my skeletons, write about going crazy.  (and have people know this about me.)  I made this mistake last year in poetry class, first poem had to be a personal poem.  She read mine in front of the whole class, and I understood  on a very deep level the word “mortification”.

I could write about Thailand but that just feels like bragging.

I could write about men.  But that is just too overdone.  And given current circumstances, also looks a lot like bragging.

meh.  Might just skip class Tuesday and stay home and hash it out.

speaking of being happy, speaking of men, speaking of beautiful moments that songs remind me about….

I know… you already know this one… but this blog is for me not for you.

I don’t know if you’ve heard of Ylvis, but you will have soon, so allow me to introduce you if you haven’t already met. One of the few songs that my roommate will dance to without being forced which marks it as a very worthy song indeed.

It doesn’t happen every day

new daft punk tunes coming out soon…

This is amazing. In case the link gets broken this is Instant Crush by Daft Punk



some people are frightened by
things bright enough
to blind them

and you,
with the radioactive

when you greet someone
at five in the afternoon

let the stunned
“good morning” of a reply
remind you

how it feels to be
mistaken for the

I don’t like the title, I may change it later.


things are capable of changing
ice to water to smoke
over the course of a year

my heart has unfolded

the way a garden worships


rebuilding itself from multiple
warzones of
a winter that has
gone on far too long

I can’t think where my
demons have gotten to
perhaps swatted dead
like flies while I’ve

it took
less than twelve months
to finally be able to awaken
into a dark blue that is
only deepening with



time traveler. The past is looking more and more surreal every day.

you ever find yourself crying on an examination table to a doctor who insists you’re only sad because it’s winter?

you ever find yourself unable to even disagree because your confidence level is zero and you have de-evolved to something almost unrecognizable to anyone who knew you before?


Submit to love without thinking,

as the sun this morning rose recklessly
extinguishing our star-candle minds.


52 card pickup

I’ve made a lot of people sad in the last two years.  Often while making myself sad in the process.  Although, when you think about it, you can’t really blame that kind of thing on anyone.  There just isn’t enough emotional strength for us to each have enough.

Sometimes restaurants are really
Rorschach tests
and your
last statement
hit me like an ax to the
I was not in love
I was only

Island of Misfit Toys

Just watched “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”  with my brother.  The whole time he just kept saying, “I thought this movie was about fistfighting? When are they gonna fistfight??”  And then he got bored and skipped the last half hour.

what I’ve been trying to say is I hate teenage romantic comedies.  They give me bitter nostalgia for something I’ve never had.

I really don’t like movies in general. I only watch them if I’m with a man, because my brain is unoriginal and I can’t think of other things to do.

also! poetry.  I was sitting in church feeling uncomfortable because all the women my age are so ridiculously polished.  They are very un-messy.  You get the feeling they have never laughed uncontrollably to the point of falling, or stuck their entire upper body out of a car doing 80 and screamed at the stars.  I guess exteriors don’t tell you that much, and I can act charm-schooled as well. I did used to be in a sorority after all.  anyways, I wrote this in church. 

the people I like are the ones
not well put together

wild-haired mannequins
in strange colors
with screws loose and
backward feet

the ones rocking enthusiasm when
calm and cool is the Cosmo-worshippers
first commandment

people who sit on staircases during
ragers, doing math problems by

people who see no difference between study sessions and

the ones who are so down with
looking like fools
the standard for commonplace
eats it’s own
smothered-in-steak-sauce cliches
for breakfast

you make me forget how good
I am at blending in

you turn “normal”  into
a breathalyzer test
I can’t wait to fail
These are fortune cookies I got.  If you know my history at all, then you should be able to see why they freaked me out so bad.  Also, what the heck King House, my best friend gets “What do you call a sheep with no legs?  A cloud”.