mypod

So for the past year or so i've been on the search for a band to completely sweep me off my feet and make me want to run away to indie land and I've found it. Band of Horses. If you're in the mood to drive, write, paint, feel, be moved in general go buy their album. Its Echo and the Bunnymen meets the shins, flirting with Cold war kids, with a dash of Ugly Casanova and a sprinkle of Elliot Smith- but not so depressing. Plus, the lead singer had a mc-gnarly beard.

Thats whats gonna be on my ipod.

Just as soon as itunes stops declining my debit card.  ouch.

There's no place like home.

I learned today that _________. I thought that sentence would be easier to complete. My Dad came home from the hospital today for good- after being in motorcycle/pavement/ER/coma/ventilator/icu/trach/stepdown/tele/regular floor/rehab/half rehab. Fuck. Thats a lot of trauma for 6 months. 6 months. I can still remember when I got the call. I was paralyzed. I thought he was dead. I wouldnt have believed it if Nostradamus had predicted it himself. Ok so now what? Do we go back to our lives? Miraculously become a functional family? Start writing notes on napkins and go to Disney World on Vacation? I want to scream that its not fair! Throw a temper tantrum and destroy everything in the house. You're like a tornado. We're FEMA and we're tired. I refuse to carry that story around in a lead backpack. I'm too tired. It's too heavy. All we can do is leave it behind and allow the universe to breathe us into now. In forgiveness. Out pain. We're not in Kansas anymore.

I heart face in hole.com

breathing and (x)

Generalizations about my life achievements and my reactions to them have been running across my brain like those emaciated folks panting to finish the Boston Marathon.

  That means they're tired, but enduring.  The indefatigable voice that continues to question, "What do I do with my life?"  I always think that I will figure it out at some point, after I do (X).  After I start/finish my master's degree, after I move across the country, after I do this job, read this book, get a dog, move into a better apartment, etc etc etc.  

Between searching for the future and celebrating/crying over the past, there's now.

  My life.

  I'm breathing.

 In creativity, out  confusion. 

Are you there God? Its me, Sars.

Dear God, Jesus (also included- baby Jesus, all saints, Mary and Joeseph), Gurus A-Z, Buddha, Jah, Zeus, Hale Bopp Comet, badger, ALL real and perceived dieties:

With all due respect (ultimate illmatic respect), please take this blog as my white flag. I surrender. I understand now that I have no control over wether or not I drive my car. I have no control over anything besides my reactions and choices (to things I have no control over), which are child like at times. Especially during the times that I don't get my way. I'm working on it. Thanks for letting me know. Thanks for my whole life. I'll try not to complain so much.

Love,

S dot arah

PS- If you would consider using your powers to cancel my student loan debt as a way to stimulate the economy it would be great. Starting with citibank. Just throwing that out there.

Family values?

John hasn't had a crunchwrap supreme in six months. He expressed his desire for one in a rip torn voice then called me Sarah Torn. Torn with a capital T. DUH. I'm such a tattletale. But that's what little sisters are for. I endured years of being called adopted so I'm entitled to blow up his hankering for Taco Hut on my blog. Go buy an ocelot and stop ruining my life all the time and looking over my shoulder. Boozey McBoozerton. Gin Rummy. I played clue today. I suspected Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the lead pipe.  I was wrong, I cheated, and then I lost.

Prescriptions for mental health

I drove by the lake house today.  This time, I had a rearview driver's side mirror.  It was pitch black (aside from constellation star light pollution) so the mirror was useless.  I felt like I was on my way home.  Interestingly, while I was actually living there it didn't feel like home.  Bootleg family and a place to throw down my belongings and write my story.  Get barked at by psycho baby dog trying to ninja my way in after tipsy driving 32 miles in the Ac through back woods at 4am.  Blowing me up like my pager in the 8th grade.  Home is conditional.  The universal accommodation to Maslow's hierarchy.  Stability is overrated.  It's all about resilience, flow, and metamorphosis.  Abdicating the past is rolling out the red carpet for love.   If you bury the hatchet does that make it any less sharp? (It is) waiting to spawn a new laceration when the top soil erodes to expose the fossil.  It still hurts.  Transmutation is a different transaction.  Emancipation from my biography and amalgamation with the cosmos. You said, "Fear cannot live in you, Sarita, especially you." You always say the right thing. Its a more effective anxiety prescription than Clonazepam 0.5mg BID (or as directed) #30 no refills.  I hope the swine flu spares you.  Take that to CVS or your local 24 hour Walgreen's and cash it.