Writing is kind of like an opiate for me and it really only works well when im in some sort of pain. I've been confused, frantic and pissed this week but not enough pain for me to resort to writing. Learning how to write when life is right is something I need to work on.

Tonight I made a raunchy joke to the boy I use to share my bed sheets with, maybe we're becoming friends. I also held a baby and shared the sensation of curiosity with him while we listened to a thunder storm together. I've spent my childhood as an adult and all im really looking to do now is spend my adulthood as a child on drugs. My life goals and aspirations start there and end there, plus the Godhead.

The Godhead is insane to me, it started out as a hilarious few words bunched together while playing the game "things" and has ended up transforming my life. God is not cool and it is not cool to talk about God much less blog about God. But here I am, about to God blog. I was never apart of the "in" crowd any how. God is my truth. He is a concept, a thing, a being (not quite a person) that I have been trying to understand since I was 8. He's always been around me and always will be, even when I told him to fuck off. I'm traveling to Germany and than back to Montana this year to understand this truth that is still partially a mystery to me. Sometimes I think I've lost my mind, pursuing this unknown source of life but in doubt, no matter how long of a period of time the doubt lasts for, I always return to knowing that seeking is the only way I can live. I'm here to search for life, everything I do is dedicated to this search.

Do you want to see something fucked up?

This collage was created by my 15 year old brain. Who the fuck says this is O.K?

needed it

Writing whatever I know

I know that sitting on my desk right now are turtle bones, toiletries to hide dudes smelling bad all around me everyday, a key to my classroom, shears, a bowl that's cashed and taco bell hot sauce. There is no body visible outside my window. Im listening to The Microphones. Today was hard, everyday is a little hard these weeks. Music and art are saving me, keeping life normal for me. Im accepting that this point in my life will be just a memory soon enough. Im still growing, still growing, growing, growing, growing. God, am I growing? God I am growing.

My laundry is always stained with food and blood.

bird poop

My life is really normal this weekend. My life is really noisy this weekend. A symphony of screaming voices is constantly emerging from every member of my family at all hours except for bunny hours. I could get use to this? I couldn't get use to this. My ex-lover and I laughed together yesterday. The last memories I had of him was running mascara running all my clothes. Laughing with him seemed absurd, until yesterday. Everything is interesting.