Kitty licks my cheek once more

Death grips at your chest when you always go looking for it to happen. It's suffocating. Death's fist takes hold of your lungs so you feel like you can't breathe. And then it strangles your heart so you go numb for lack of blood flow. Legs are weak so you want to fall and arms feel like lead. Death ties you up and keeps you prisoner. We are all prisoners of Death. It's our one guarantee about life. We may not know anything for certain, but we do know that we will die one day. Make the best of it, right? Death is a fear that we all have once someone close to you dies. Just a fear that it'll come knocking on someone else's door and you'll be left with heavy arms and tight lungs. Again. How much of that shit can people handle? It drives one insane, right? Afraid of the love that you have disappearing. Death leaves a dark lingering fear in all of us and we dont even know it. Death and I are under this little agreement. I dont mind It and It doesn't mind me until something happens and I fear that I took life for granted again. Death happens. And that's okay. I'm not afraid of being alone, I'm being afraid of being alone with the feelings that Death brings. It gets easier. Without a doubt. Easier to handle losing one thing when it's happened before. The gaping hole just gets bigger and more awkward to live with. But it's also easier. The first death is most difficult. That makes the initial hole. Every tear beyond that is just adding to what you already know how to feel. It is like a knife to the throat. The sharp tip presses up against the neck, waiting to break skin and make blood slither down to the floor. And that first experience of Death is just as sharp as the tip of that knife. And it's as painful as it digging into your neck. And it's as obvious as the scar that it leaves behind. Oh, Death. How much of a tease must you be? Just slit my fucking throat already.

These are words that go together well

I devoted two hours of my time last night reading old blogs. I didn't realize that I had so much to say, ya know? Like, my thoughts are interesting to read over. They started as immature and just ridiculous and became more in-depth and serious and I cannot believe the words that wound up online. Some of them are also extremely hysterical but for the most part I'm just like, Wow, when I try, I'm a good writer. Makes me think I should try a bit harder all of the time and maybe so much wouldn't fester inside. But then I realized I'm not inspired staring at blue walls all day. I am locked inside of white siding and blue roof for a bulk of the day and my imagination doesn't go many places (besides the dirty) in order for me to write good stuff again. My blogs have been severely lacking lately and it's because I dont have much to say. No new stories to catch anyone up on. Unless of course you want to know how many eye crusties I picked from my eyeball when I woke up. Or how many times I just paced around my living room and dining room because I had nothing else to do. hhhmm... Maybe I'll just start writing pornography in this blog. Honestly, it's what's been on my mind the most lately. Not pornogrophy per se, but the imagination behind writing it. I know for a fact I can write that shit well so maybe I'll just be Inappropriate Fran and say naughty words reserved for behind closed doors :D

Something sort of interesting happened yesterday. I went to the doctor. GASP, I know. But I needed a physical for the job that I start Tuesday. I went and sat in the chair for over an hour and thought of...things...(which was probably obvious by my longing stare) and when I finally got in the room, it was over in ten minutes. I did embarassing stuff. I proved how blind I was even with my glasses; I peed in a cup; I did 25 jumping jacks in front of the nurse so she could check my pulse; and my favorite, kneeing the doctor in the balls when he did my reflex thing. Now, that actually didn't happen. But I wish it would! I have great reflexes and my legs are oober strong and fierce when my knee is tapped. One day I just want to kick someone in the groin like in the movies. Oh well. But he did check my breathing and when he pushed in my tummy I couldn't breathe in, I just laughed a lot. Why? Because I'm Fran and I'm ticklish everywhere. I just giggled as he touched my tummy. I'm so cute but such a fool.

Alright, my blogs suck now...I am way too uninteresting.

Peace.

you know you twist so fine.

My life is pretty plain

I just realized something. Like, it actually hit me this very second. About three weeks ago I made an online dating account. I seriously did. Wow. I mean, I knew I made one-- I was there and I wrote all dat good shit--but I just noticed what exactly this meant about myself. I'm blown away right now. Jesus Christ.

I called her on the phone and she touched herself.

See that woman dressed in blue

Want to know what I miss? I miss being able to dance in my room naked with my music turned up so loud that my ears will bleed. It seems I've lost that freedom for now. And, let's be honest, I've lost some of my groove because of this. I can no longer dance like no one's watching because I feel like someone is watching. phooey.

I'm the teacher, you can learn

Watch your fingers, boy

You might get burned

Something to rely on

Still. I had a tall tree inside, thriving with green leaves and solid bark. And one day, etched was a half-ass heart that never really counted as anything because of fear. My solid tree was cut down because of sadness and only a stump remained. That was gnawed, clawed at and destroyed by nature because of desperation. And I felt pretty shitty about it because it was something I liked. Until now when a little tree is starting to be tall again because of him. Still. He is still my pick me up.

What a beautiful face

I have found in this place

That is circling all round the sun

What a beautiful dream

That could flash on the screen

In a blink of an eye and be gone from me

Soft and sweet

Let me hold it close and keep it here with me

One afternoon I knew I could love you

Yeah. People wonder why I have a hard time opening up. It seems like everytime I do in fact open up, I am unwanted. And that stings a tad so it's easier to stay closed off and live within myself. Thanks.

How long?

I had a point in writing today. And between logging in and making up a title, I totally lost my point. Oh, wait...

Another dream. It was just a part that I remember. I was in bed with someone and being a cuddling ho, he and I were doing such, and he said, "You were right, you are a great cuddler." I find this hysterical on many levels. I just do.

I have no point to my life lately. I just sit around hoping for something to fall in my lap and something to do without actually having to try first. I mean, there are things I want to do but I cannot. I'd like to have a library in my house so I can read all of the time. Though I haven't finished the books from the library...hhmmm....

Ever wonder what makes someone attracted to another? Sometimes two people put together seems like the oddest combination, but they really are just great together. I wonder if that's always the case though. The saying "opposites attract" isn't always true because there needs to be some simliarities in order for things to work. And those similarities have to go deeper than the fact a couple both loves the movie Rambo. And two polar opposites can't seem to stand one another. Like, I dont think Darma and Greg would have been a successful couple in real life. Can you blame me?

But I've been thinking plenty about dating lately. And for obvious reasons. I have a line up, basically. And yes, Brittany likes to call me a ho for it, but I cannot help it. And each one who is lined up has as much of a chance as the other. There may be special privileges for some, but for the most part they're all here and I like them all for different reasons. And I think of what makes two people attracted to eachother and try to apply that. But then I think that I'm overthinking it and should just have fun. So that's what I'm doing. It's a great summer story =)

Don't answer that

I'm doing well. Smitten like a kitten.

I should stop procrastinating...

In a bullet proof vest

With the windows all closed

I'll be doing my best

I'll see you soon

I have very bad posture.

I'm sleepy.

I'm so tired that I can't sleep

I'm a liar and a thief

I sit and drink Pennyroyal tea

I'm anemic royalty.

I'm movin' out

I always want to kick myself in the ass. I'm such a Gemini and I cannot stand it sometimes. On the one hand I treasure intimacy and affection and on the other hand I can never show it. I won't allow people to be let into everything I have to offer. I seem to complain about things, but once they're put in front of me, I tend to look away and ignore them. I'm afraid exactly what I stand for which is such a Gemini thing to do. CAn someone explain to me why I have such a difficult time with this? Sure, I have reasons. I have psychological reasons. I have environmental reasons. I have personal reasons. But why? Why, why, why? I love romance and I love affection but when the opportunity comes, I'm afraid. And, in return, I push good people away.

Is this always a defense mechanism? I have to wonder. It's not always "being careful." Jen's right, I overanalyze things too much. Sometimes I need to have fun and forget about the worries. And I'm trying to work on it. But I've done a good job keeping a wall up to keep people out. And now, more than ever, I want to break it down but I have so much resistance it's not even funny. And I'm being told that my wall is coming down. I'm told how I'm reacting to things and that scares me. Was my wall ever that good then? Shit, if people can see what I'm feeling, my wall is a shitty wall. Or perhaps I put the incorrect wall up. I dont know, but I'm really tired of feeling this way.

Deep breaths. yeah? Does that trick really ever work?

Everyone has a secret

I am here to talk about dreams. I just woke up from a freakish one. The symbolism behind my dream is slapping me in the face. Usually dreams consist of the symbols that you have to think about to understand. Yeah.... hhmmm... I had a dream that I was on a sinking ship. Yeah. Hello! A SINKING SHIP. Anyway, I was on a sinking ship with millions of other people (yes, millions) and I was saving others' lives. But the whole time I was trying to calm others from the panic they were feeling, I was texting a guy (who shall remain nameless) trying to seek my own comfort from him. Magically, I got cell phone service at sea, and this guy and I were talking. And he was telling me things trying to make me feel better and all I wanted from him was to tell me how he really felt. About me and us and how he'll feel going to my funeral without a body in the casket. Morbid, right? I should add that our ship was under attack by the Koreans because war was declared between North Korea and the United States and the two countries began fighting at sea. North Korea saw our vacation cruise ship and started bombing the shit out of us. So, we were all going to die, and amidst the ship sinking were U.S ships fighting back as well as military men trying to save lives and not die in the process. It was absolute chaos the whole time and for some reason I was sought out for comfort by these people. And I didn't really want it, but it happened so I had to be brave. And the only person I could trust with how I really felt was him. And I guess that all says a lot. And it's not someone that anyone can expect, so don't even try to guess. Whatever. It was just one of those dreams where you wake up and go, Eh?

Never quite as it seems

I have stalkers.

Real, live stalkers.

And not just ones that I made up in my head.

tropical drink melting in your hand

Is there such thing as sexy politics? Can it be sexy? Is it possible to turn someone on in bed by talking dirty, sexy politics with them? I guess some people... but for the most part sexy politics don't exist. Right?

So, it's been awhile, eh? yeah, I thought so. No one seems to really be keeping up with their shit these days. We're all smoking, drinking, making babies, trying to not make babies, and laughing at Jewish people eating grapes. It's all in a day's work here in Patchogue. I've been thinking a lot about life here in Patchogue. And I must say that it's not that bad, ya know? Yeah, it's not gorgeous, but this is where I grew up and this is the place that I've called home. It's sorta ghetto but there's a lot of Long Island history here in Patchogue. Like, did you know that a man living on the Island invented nail polish that lasted longer? Did you also know that the first condom factory was built on Long Island, but it burned down a few short years later? Now, I dont know if either of those facts are true, I made them up. But anything is possible. We all know the greatest thing to happen to this Fish is me. Like, duh. Patchogue cultivated Reptar and that's all ya'll need to know. Thirty years from now a chick from Patchogue will be writing in her online blog (en espanol) and she will say that she does not mind Patchogue because this great humanitarian came from P-town and changed the face of the world forever. Reptar is puttin' Patchogue on the map. Why? Because Reptar cares about human safety and she will build the first condom factory in Bellport--because she can. And it makes sense to put a love glove factory in the herpes sore of Suffolk county.

But whatever. I'm hungry and my daddy made chicken parm. heroes. Peace suckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkas.

I won't regret 'cause you can grow flowers from where dirt used to be

It's done. It's finally done.

49, 233 characters.
9,804 words
22 pages.


Oh, Hofstra...


^___^

I've made my decision. And I can breathe okay now.

Try to tell me that you never loved me

I know that you did

'Cause you said it and you wrote it down

Two spirits dancing so strange

I was born in the wrong time period. Without a doubt.