kelland

I'd like to open by saying: There are brighter sides to life and I should know because I've seen them. But not often... // The Smiths.

Yesterday, the 4th, was my grandma's birthday. Her brother had a stroke yesterday morning. It was a pretty unhappy birthday for her. Her sister died last year and her heart swelled up. If she loses her only other sibling, her heart will burst. I know it. I want to be able to stop everything in the world to make her happy. I want to change her state of affairs so that she can finally be content. I would do anything for that.

Another day in the grind. Another back to the wall. Another slap to the face. And I have grown oh so stale. I'm old and moldy when the alarm sounds and I wipe the sleep out of my eyes. Stale in these sheets and stale in my skin. I am exhausted in the shower, standing under the stale trickle, watching the suds dissolve away. I am stale in my t-shirt and jeans. I am old and moldy when I pull the comb through my hair and paint on a deceiving face. I am stale in the car, one hand on the wheel and the other old and moldy in my lap. Stale at the light. Stale in hallways. Stale in my seat. And tired. When I go to work, I can sit and think about my day. I can choose to pick up the phone and I can choose to answer. My voice is stale on the line and my smile is stale to the business. I'm old and moldy to the wages and to the tolerance. And when I go home, the animals greet me with a stale hello and the leftovers in the fridge are old and moldy. And stale. So I go back to bed so I can be stale in these sheets. And stale in my skin. And tired.



I just cannot begin to respond to the tragedy in Louisiana. Every time I see a picture, I want to crumble into pieces and blow away. I am so fucking small and my problems are so fucking meaningless when people have no place to live and no food to eat and no children or parents or lovers or friends. When everything they've ever known is gone. I cannot respond to something of that magnitude. I can just say that I am sorry. And I marvel at the strength of other people in such traumatic circumstances. Please continue to be strong.

I am not going on the trip to Ireland/Scotland anymore. I decided I could not afford to budget my income for that along with the expense of a car and gas and school and cameras and ACT and college application fees and blah blah blah... It makes me sad. But I know it's probably the best decision. I did buy concert tickets Saturday for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club in Columbus. And Coheed and Cambria in Detroit. Because Columbus sold out.

Wow, I type a lot.

I am trying to understand. I am trying to decide if my honesty has gotten me anywhere. Why do I feel like I've done or said something wrong? Why do I feel like I'm losing another friend? I hope I'm just worrying more than necessary. I hope that everything works itself out. I hope that I am not completely blind. I hope my paranoia is not justified.

I think I have a song for each day I am alive. Either it's a song that's simply running through my head, or it's a song that seems to sum up how I'm feeling at the time. My song for today is "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want" by The Smiths. Good times for a change. See, the luck I've had could make a good man turn bad. So please, please, please, let me, let me, let me... let me... get what I want this time. Haven't had a dream in a long time. See, the life I've had could make a good man bad. So, for once in my life let me get what I want. Lord knows it would be the first time.

What's your song for today?