lindsey mullen is

inspired by lyrics of nickel creek's 'when you come back down':
~My greatest fear will be that you will crash and burn

And I won't feel your fire

I'll be the other hand that always holds the line

Connectin' in between your sweet heart and mine

I'm strung out on that wire

And I'll be on the other end,

To hear you when you call Angel,

you were born to fly,

Your memory's the sunshine every new day brings

I know the sky is calling Angel,

let me help you with your wings ~

'jayne'

lindsey mullen is bright lights. she is exciting and her eyes squint when she smiles and it makes me giggle. she is happy even when she's sad. she is incomprehensibly beautiful. she has tiny lighted eyes and big rosy cheeks and a smile you can see from the moon. she has curly hair and lovely skin and nice hands and cute feet. she has a lovely face. she's not just effective- she's affected. and that's something that people these says just plain aren't. she loves people intensely and without reason. she loves people more than they love her and that has been and always will be her curse. she is a good girl. she is good despite everything that has ever happened or things that are happening or things that are going to happen. she knows how to lie. she is good at it. she understands that is scary but she is in complete control of her vices. she controls things she doesn't know she controls. lindsey mullen is alright. she is the smell after it rains. she is kittens. she loves her cats and loves her friends who treat her poorly. sometimes she thinks she desernes it. she never ever does. she knows what to do to make you feel like the whole wide world. she is one hundred dollars. she is atypical. she is abnormal. she is alien. she is wonderful. lindsey mullen is good chocolate and stuffed bunnies and happy children. she is playing in the rain. she is clinging to her past for all the right reasons. she is understanding. she is passionate. she has passion in her and outside her. it leaks from her like tears. she cries. she gets angry. lindsey mullen glows in the dark. she is a postcard with a hundred secrets and she is sweet smelling hair and she is flowy skirts and she is infection laughter. she is eloquent. she is a genius. she is a child in a big girls' body. she has a great rack. lindsey is sweet. her voice is high and she sings like she fucking means it. she loves good music. she can make fabulous mix cds. lindsey is glitterfantastic. she is bats. she is puppies. she is late night. she is orange and pink and green and purple. she is unorganized. she is uberorganized. she knows when it matters. she knows when it doesn't- but really it does. she knows when it doesn't- and it really doesn't. she does her best. she takes care of others before herself. she forgets to take her iron. she knows when things are cute and fun. she knows how to have fun. she makes everything fun. lindsey mullen is infinitely beautiful when she's drunk. lindsey is emotion and that's perfect. she feels things like i do and that is why i feel part of me in her. she knows it is okay to feel. she is a wonderful writer. she is brave. she is strong. she doesn't think any of these things are true. she doesn't see in her what we all see. she probably never will. she is waiting for prince charming. prince charming is searching for her. she makes mistakes. she fucks up. she hates herself. just like everyone else. but she's nothing like everyone else. lindsey is free from the chains that the earth can spring up and wrap around her. lindsey can laugh through pain. lindsey knows more than you. she knows more than me. she is bright and love and flowers and pretty stones and fire and static electricity and good books and little girls and speeches and oranges and dishes and poems and walls and messages in bottles. she is coloring books and buttons and charm bracelets and toys and bubbles and voices and education and art museums and high schools. lindsey mullen is parking spots and light bulbs and caterpillars and rain-soaked grass and sunshine and pretty days and rainstorms and lightning and glowworms and cute children and warm blankets and sharpie markers and moral forum and fake pearls and real pearls. lindsey jayne mullen is my heart and my best friend. she is bright lights.

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6 weird things

so lindsey has instructed me to list 6 strange things about myself. this is difficult not in thinking of these six things, but rather narrowing the list down to six. we'll just go with the weirdest i can come up with right now.

1. sometimes late at night, i pour milk in a bowl and drink it like soup. but if you walked in on me doing it, i would just say i just finished eating cereal.

2. i rehearse speeches i will one day give to people, or hope to give to people, in my kitchen or in the bathroom. the one i practice most often is if ie ver win any big award on television, and preach to all the celebrities about how they are frivilous and wasteful and should spend theirmoney on aids research and not diamond-encrusted shoes and personal stylists.

3. i am convinced beyond all doubt that RENT is and will always remain the most underrated movie ever created.

4. it really annoys me when people wake up startled, or are generally skittish when they are asleep or close to asleep.

5. i have virtually no care or thoughts about personal hygeine. i can barly spell the word.

6. i have a secret dream to become a famous singer- i secretly love to sing in front of people, i'm just always afraid to because it's never appropriate and i don't want to look like i'm showing off.

some other weird things might be that i hate most of modern technology, i enjoy working on very tiny things in detal [e.g painting tile grout], and i have a tendency to develop crushes on my teachers. oh, and i'm kinky as hell. but that's not really weird is it?

my next post will be a surprise for my best friend.
hooray.

<3gen

je veux le mort

the question that i find myself asking is, why do i bother? i probably tried harder studying for this french test than any test i've taken in a very long time. two days straight of nothing but writing over and over again, memorizing conjugation, re-hydrating sentences, quizzing myself on vocabulary, working on composition. i got a tutor, i made notecards, and even bought a brand new notebook specifically to write french over and over and over and over again until my french eyes bleed french blood all over my french book.

and yet? a 73. and ryan? he studied two hours the night before, and worried over the weekend about doing badly. i felt confident, i worked hard, this was gonna be my first A on a french test this semester. and yet, it seems that ten times the work only amounts to a few points on a test. so i ask myself, why even bother trying uber-hard if it doesn't do any good?

give me a poem to analyze and i could put you to shame- i dissect poetry in my sleep, it's second nature by now. read a novel and find every miniscule metaphor in ever gesture and every beautiful manipulation and intention? it's what i'm best at, and i can promise i'm better at it than you. because it's the ONE SINGLE THING that i fucking rock at.

i can draw fairly well, sing fairly well, cook fairly well. i'm a nice person, generous, thoughtful, and the most assertive person i know. i do what i can and i think i'm pretty alright.

but smart? not a word i would use. it's all about retaining knowlege- and i just can't do it. memorization kills me. i lose my keys, cell phones, money, cards, books, anything able to be lost, really. and i get teased mercilessly for it. i can't remember ANYTHING about french, i can't have a big vocabulary because i can't ever remember what the words all mean, and i can't keep track of money to save my life.

i know i'm being self deprecating and you guys all think that it's not a big deal if i lose my keys or can't remember french conjugations. but for me? it's a huge deal. only because it's something that i have to deal with every single day, and no matter what i do, it never gets any better.

so again, i ask myself, why bother at all?

<3gen

seasons of...

a few christmases ago, my mother gave me this book. mostly because i blatantly pointed out that i wanted it, but my mother is such a person that she most likely would have figured out that i wanted it without my instruction [e.g. she bought me my oprah dvd before i even knew it existed, and who knows i like oprah that much?]

i have discovered recently that i must read this book at least once a year, because it seems that the knowlege it procures so beautifully and willingly i forget just as well after a year or a little less has gone by. the most effective part of this book, which indicates that part that i hsould start reading most often, is a certain section that has to do with the seasons of life. that we all, in a sense, so through 4 seasons in our lives as does the weather of a year.

there is spring, where everything is new and beautiful and exciting and blooming, the sun is shining and the clouds move slowly. there is summer, where things are warm and familiar and things are in full bloom and colorful. there is an autumn, where things begin to wither and change, it gets a little colder and cloudier. and there is inevitably a winter, where things are dead and dying, cold and frail, and the days are mostly cloudy and wet.

for some people, this actually follows the seasons [sometimes i think i'm like that, other times, when alabama doesn't have winter, i have trouble deducing it] and for others, their winter is in spring and their summer is in autumn. what matters is that these things are natural, and inevitable. what i have to realize, and perhaps others who udnerstand my dilemma, is that the seasons of my life do not make me a bad person, and it isn't abnormal to go through a few months that suck like a 2 dollar whore. no one gets angry at mother nature for getting cold, i don't assume it's because the world has done something wrong, or that it is somehow at fault for killing its own flowers. i should listen to that part of me, and understand that i can't hate myself for being sad and troubled for a while, and that it's completely natural and involuntary that things get rocky and difficult sometimes. it's so easy to forget this, because the last time i had trouble was three seasons ago, and by now i've forgotten what it was like to hurt like this. but the last winter helped me prepare for this one, just like all the winters before it prepared for the ones following, and i can get ready for spring.

and in spring, things will be beautiful and wonderful and new again. the truth is, the same things that are going to be beautiful and amazing and exciting this spring are the same things that were new and exciting every spring, but this time, i've changed a little, and it's been three seasons since my last spring too, so i've forgotten what it looks like to see a flower bloom. we cycle through the same seasons, it just gets more intense, and better prepared for, each time.
i think after enough phone calls, talks to sini, and trips home, i'm going to be headed back into spring-mode fairly soon. i have some relationship issues to work out, some old skeletons to get out of the closet, and a few vices that i shouldn't indulge nearly as often. and when that's over, i'll go back to liking myself, and understanding myself, and maybe this time i'll remember all of this when winter comes again.

maybe that's all growing up really is. remembering spring in winter and remembering winter in spring.

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