what happens when you're: born in central america, raised in france, schooled in hollywood, and escaped to san francisco...

I stood upon the platform in vain
The Puerto Ricans were playing you salsa in the rain
With open doors and manual locks
In fast food parking lots


I'm heading North, I'm a gal on the move
This city's lied to me, I'm seeking the truth
I need somebody, need someone
I can trust

Cos you told me I was like the Dead Sea
You'll never sink when you are with me
I'm like the Dead Sea
They were the finest words youve ever said to me
Honey can't you see
I was born to be, your Dead Sea


You told me I was good at running away
I left with just the clothes on my back
Cos I left the rest for you while I took a map
for myself

Yes, there are times we all live for somebody else
But my lover left, and so I decided to live for myself
I just felt
I just felt it was time
And I'm glad, cause that's just not right


Now yes, I've been down, I've been defeated
But there was a message I was heeding
Would I stay the night?


But honey cant you see
I was born to be
be your Dead Sea



Its been real, folks. But its time for me to move on. Master's degree in hand and all.

Cheers. Youve all been "Quite Lovely".

unbreakable

In life, it'd be safe to say that I was dealt a shitty hand.
Hmm. In fact, that statement is so saturated with painful context that my eyes welled up before I had even finished typing it.

On more than one occasion, and by more than one person, I've been called "a survivor".
Life has denied, destroyed, shattered, consumed, damaged, maimed, jaded, burned, and abused me.

Some days, I wonder how the fuck I'm still here.
Then I realize its cos:
Each time Life has knocked me down, I've calmly gotten back up, smiled, and very politely said:
"You hit like a LITTLE BITCH".

anatomy of a loser/ a cautionary tale for city gals

Recently I was re-contacted by a scrub I non-dated a handful of months ago. What does that mean, exactly?
Well, a scrub is defined in urbandictionary.com as:
A scrub is a guy that thinks he's fly
And is also known as a buster
Always talkin' about what he wants
And just sits on his broke ass

see also: A loser with nothing to offer a woman.

And to 'non-date' somebody means that I met him at a work event, watched him chew with his mouth open, but then happily received the huge compliments he proceeded to send my way via text. Hey, don't judge me; my self-esteem isn't the greatest, and sometimes a gals just gotta take it where she can get it.

Anyway, I'd effectively ignored him and in fact completely forgotten about him until he texted me the other day. It reminded me of what a loser scrub he'd been. It was just so sad, you guys, that I thought I'd warn my gal pals and readers alike, what to watch out for should one of these poor scrub suckers cross your path.

WHAT HE SAID	THE THINLY VEILED TRUTH
“I work in the media production industry”	He works part-time at an A/V rental place.
“I live in Redwood City cos I’m helping my mom out, but I have a weekend place in the city”	He lives with his mom cos he can’t afford his own place, and he sleeps on his friends couch when hes too drunk to drive home.
“Your friend harassed me by texting me 10 times a day for multiple days in a row”	She asked him to stop calling. She asked once.

Sigh. I know.
So what's a girl to do?
Eh, you send him this:

Is that not playing? Its Those Dancing Days "Fuckarias". Here: Enjoy. ;)

Fall(ing)

'you didnt think you could get away with that forever, did you?'
---and other lies my drunken self writes on my walls

It frustrates me that some boys will remember me, mistakenly, as someone who loved them. Because the truth is, those particular boys?- I've always been, and will be, just a little bit out of their reach.
You see, Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting them not to.
And though I gave away the power, I never trusted a soul.

Now, I look in the mirror and I hardly recognize myself. My hair, my body, my composure- we are all strangers to each other. Nobody that knew me even six months ago could place me now. I don't know yet if I prefer it this way.
But the weather is changing and I can cover myself with layers of sweaters again, and hide behind stacks of books and piles of journals. Autumn brings with it my emotional hibernation, and there is comfort to be found in the changing colors of the trees, undressing their leaves; falling.

"You," he said, "are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain."
-The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls, Emilie Autumn


current mood: solstice'd
current music: grace potter and the nocturnals - never go back

day 4 and maybe i'm a little cranky. WHAT?! i said MAYBE

So I'm all for fresh starts and renewals, but this Master Cleanse is BULLSHIT. It fucking sucks. So just between you and me, I ate a few pieces of fruit here and there because:
- i love fruit
- i am fucking hungry all. the. time. right now

Anyway, when I went to the grocery store to buy said pieces of heavenly glucose, I noticed the big NOTICE sign:
"As of October 1st, 2012, (THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE MOTHERFUCKING) city of San Francisco paper grocery bags will cost 5 cents A PIECE. Thats right, bitches, FIVE cents EACH"
ok maybe I paraphrased that sign, but really, thats how I remember it.

After my initial 'gah!', 'pfft!', and multiple eye rolls, my snarky cranky ass set to work looking for decently attractive, maybe even stylish, reusable bags; because my hungry, foggy brain INDEED thinks spending $200+ on various designer bags is just fine, thankyouverymuch because I am saving the PLANET, here!

Anyway, heres what I'm buying. (And if youre a friend of mine, expect one or more of these for xmas).

For the hipsters:

MINE:

current mood: still cranky as all fuck.
current music: cranky mccrankerpants - in the key of cranky

not without a fight

I could call it the first day of the rest of my life. Or I could call it finally letting go.
I'm so sick of my past heartbreaks defining who and what I am. Not too long ago, I had a car problem, and the mechanic asked me when my last oil change had been.
My response?
"Well, lets see. I remember being hungover cos so-and-so had just dumped me, so I would say, about a year ago?"
He looked at me and gave an "Hmph; measuring time by your love life. thats new."

Coping mechanisms have piled on and lined up, and they've each failed me, igniting a domino effect of self-loathing and vacancy. In their wake, I've been left a shell of who I know myself to be. I just couldn't take it anymore.

So I decided to get my Life back. Ive pulled myself up from the pathetic swamp of failure before, and I know I can do it again. I woke up with a renewed angst today, ready to take on whatever Damage I've managed to layer on myself, and peel it back, peel it off, and get rid of it for good.

I'm re-devoting myself to my Self; re-focusing on Me. i'm even taking back my physical/spiritual health: Today is Day 1 of the Master Cleanse (a 10-day lemon juice detox program).
I've a new resolve and the 50th anniversary issue of ArtForum came in the mail today. I've not felt this alive in a long time.
I'll keep you posted.


current mood: pointed
current music: dead man's bones - pa pa power

cave collective

I spend a lot of time thinking about myself. Who I am, who I want to be, how I want to come across to others, what they must think of me as I am, what I want them to think of me, what I want strangers to think of me.
i spend so much time thinking thinking thinking, that theres never even time or mental space to just let myself BE

and im beginning to fucking wonder: what would happen if i just stopped thinking about how and who I wanted to be and was just IT

would the bipolar disorder take over? would the borderline personality run wild?
OR
would it be like every other day? when my heart takes over? and my spirit runs wild?

i swear to god we're about to find out.


current mood: beyond
current music: deidre & the dark - classic girls
current obsession: matthew gray gubler

collide

This bipolar shit is crippling. There's no handicapp parking pass for the emotionally unstable. Though if you think about it, we are the unpredictable folks that can lose it at any second, and you just never know if a frustrating lot/garage/street will be the one thing that sends us right over the edge and into a psychotic break. .... Ive been feeling really intense lately, and today is the apex. A minute ago I found myself crying from an internal pain so deeply rooted in my psyche that it knows no way out. Ive high doubts it will ever see the light of day, take a gasp of fresh air, escape. No. It sits in my marrow, filling my bones with traumatic memories that seep into my bloodstream, rushing to my brain for their electrocution, where the sparks explode, burning, searing, leaving scars around the grey matter. An insult to the bloody tissue. And yes, I know I have to change. But I am an emotional glacier, icy cold and slow-moving.
i painted my nails 'plaza burgandy'. you know, to match my mood.
current mood: whose blood is this current music: bon iver - flume current obsession: stomach fat

what no one else will say

Normally, I can floss with the skinny pretentious trust-fund babies. But every once in a while, your tight-pant fixed-gear fuck-buddy will send you something like this to brighten your day. its just so fucking GOOFY, the nerd factor is just pathetically sad:









current mood: mattress
current music: laughter so hotly snarky the Irony is just melting off of it
current obsession: my impending hostile takeover of a company about to go under... aaannyyy seecccoonndddd...NOW

yesterday, today, and tomorrow; a prelude, and a living nightmare

So I promised you folks the story of a series of events that were so horrendously sick and twisted, it borderlined unicorn-like surrealness. It reads well, but there's a few sentences of necessary prologue for it to all make sense. So, a handful of months ago, I was aimlessly shifting through jobs, trying desperately to find a single career that would allow me to actually enjoy waking up and getting out of bed everyday. My entire body was depressed; I felt depression in my marrow, infecting my blood and diseasing my muscles. What to do? Hop on a plane to my mother's house, where my self-loathing would blend into the seat cushions. On a random day of misery, my gray-phobic mother had a hair 'moment' and knowing that I too-oft take scissors to my own mop, asked for assistance, and I ended up dying, cutting and styling her and my aunt's 'do's. It was the first time I had felt decent about myself in a long time. In typical Kendra fashion, I ran with it. I'd always known how much I truly, sincerely liked to help women feel like women: pretty, renewed, feminine and powerful. Why hadn't I thought of this before? It was clear to me: I needed to get myself to beauty school and eventually open up the cutest vintage salon/DIY crafts & events locale.

Yeah? So, tenancious and led-by-a-bleeding-heart as ever, I secured a job as a Salong Coordinator at a boutique salon in downtown SF and I was refreshed, set, and ready for my new start on Tuesday. Great. Awesome. Right? You'd think so. But not in my life. Keep in mind this happened MONTHS ago, but here goes:

SUNDAY on my way home from the gym, I spontaneously decided to stop by my favorite farmer's market near my home. I ran into none other than my ex boyfriend from a year ago- yes, the one that dumped me overnight and whose actions sent me into such a tailspin that I had a nervous breakdown and had to be hospitalized. Bastard completely turned my life upside down. And there he was, in front of me, trying to pretend he didnt see me, with his new girlfriend, plainest and most unkempt jane ever, at MY favorite farmers market that *I* showed him, because it is in MY neighborhood, right by MY house. Bastard lives across town! WTF! Of course I 'said hello', and even asked the frizzy bitch if I could 'borrow him for a word'. I looked him in the eye and told him just how much I had believed all his devoted words, and just how much his actions had turned me and my life upside down and inside out. I did it all in a calm voice, classy demeanor and eloquent speech, and then I turned on my heel and didnt cry until I got home. Phew. Rough, yes. I did breathing exercises all day, got a little drunk, and waited for it all to be ok.

MONDAY I'm still reeling, but slowly recovering, in the best way I know how: a comfy blanket and my favorite tv shows. So I'm watching my favorite and most-viewed network when I see the ug-mug of my EX FIANCE: apparently, he's on a reality TV show about giving (get this) RELATIONSHIP ADVICE. WTF!? The man that gave me the WORST 7 months of a relationship hell that broke me emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and even physically, is now on international television dispelling relationship advice!??! What planet? AND! As my mouth hung open in SHOCK and HORROR, I witness the scene the network is playing in order to promote the dumb show: my ex fiance makin' out with his skinny bitch coworker.

TUESDAY I get up, determined that this new Salon Coordinator gig is the EXACT thing I need to forget what I've just gone through for the past 2 days and focus on me and my new life. I arrive on time for my first 8-hr day, and the salon gals, stylists, colorists, and aesthetians proceed to shoot me their best glares, stares, and eye rolls. Hmm. "New girl' antics, I think to myself, nothing I can't handle. By noon, I've taken so much snark, sass, attitude, rudeness, insults, and personal digs that I throw up in the bathroom. I should have known. How could I have possibly let it get by me that the bitch levels of the fashion industry and the beauty industry would be the same? The way these girls even talked to EACH OTHER made me feel ill; they are so cutting and mean and condescending- everyone is! to everyone else! That shit is CUT-FUCKING-THROAT. And I wasn't even their competition! I was a desk gal with no cosmetology license! When I do a 'job' or 'career', I do that thing because it fulfills me; because it is my heart's calling and my contribution to the world, however small, to make a positive DIFFERENCE. It goes against everything in my DNA to be so..so... just SO MEAN! I cried on the bus the whole way home, and when I got home, I threw up again, called the work phone, and left a message saying that the crew wasn't at all what I was expecting or willing to adjust to, and that had been my first and last day there.

Needless to say, the saga was a living nightmare. I'm crying now, just writing this and recalling the dark days that followed. I was broken. I didnt't leave my bed, much less my apartment for almost three weeks. I thought I was beyond repair; I thought this time had done me in for sure.

Somewhere, a month later, I realized that those were the three things I was dreading the most: seeing my ex boyfriend, hearing about my ex fiance's successes, and failing yet again at another career I'd thrown my heart and forseeable future into. The trifecta knocked me so far away from my life, that I was forced into a new perspective: that that, then, was as bad as it would ever get for me, and that that meant that the worst of it was over. I didn't have to be sacred of it anymore. I was free.

Obviously, from the post below, we can see that I've come a long way and lots of things have changed. I'd say that I'm still recovering from the triple-blow, and that might explain these tears. But it's the closest to Free i've been in years.

current mood: smeared current music: the mynabirds - let the record go

Life of the special occasions

[You must pardon my recent hiatus. I've been in recovery from a knock-down rogue wave of world ethics. To be more specific, my recent research of the world hunger issue broke my heart; I saw the staggering statistics of children, and I proceeded to cry nearly non-stop for the next three weeks. I've taken great measures and have made long-term plans to directly help the children of a specific location. My solid efforts have allowed me to tape my heart back together, but I feel its a very personal endeavor and a very private part of my life that does not have a place on this blog. I would like to keep my efforts and contributions anonymous. Thank you.]

AND I owe you folks yet another tale of romantic woe, this time so ridiculous in its tragedy that it crosses over to Hilarity. But thats a future posting, because...

Because right now I'm simply *exploding* with a veritable inventory of anecdotes, accounts, personalities and experiences! My new job has me on a steady diet of the previously mentioned entities.
It was not that long ago that I heard myself tell a friend "too bad nobody pays to have a party hosted, cos its kinda the only thing i'm best at." Well, folks, I should have also wished for a million dollars and a talking pony, cos I landed myself that EXACT gig. NO SHIT. The title says it all and its something like Event Host & Coordinator. NO SHIT. I love it so much and it comes so naturally that I feel I've not yet worked a minute. NO SHIT.
YES.
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So far, in my 'job', I've ridden a horse, gone on a strip club bar crawl, been at the Drive-In movies, hiked to the top of a nearby mountain, done the Stern Grove thaaang, played mini-golf, watched Shakespeare in the park, seen Rocky Horror Picture Show in all its toast-throwing glory, AND, coolest of all: successfully stayed on a mechanical bull for TWO FULL minutes! Hahaha laughing and kickin' my heels all the way to the bank. Eh, who am I kidding, the gig pays pennies. But everything I've done and drank has been free and compensated.
I've been meeting loads of new folks, and the men are abundant. I've never had the need for a fly swatter but I might invest a few of my pennies to buy one, cos these guys are droppin' appropriately. They fall easily, surprisingly, and I.... well....
I keep my disorders to myself and I watch them put up a courageous fight while nature takes its course. Brave little soldiers. But the attention drives me wild and its happily done wonders for my bruised ego.

A year ago, a man turned my entire life upside down and inside out, all in a matter of 10 hrs.
These days? I am pedestooled and swarmed, and, andandand, slowly but surely getting back to being my Self.



Oh! And can someone please slap San Francisco in the face? This Cindy Sherman worship is lethal misguidance. A dressed-up phony no better than Avedon's b&w's, and even worse than when Leibowitz had that fit with the flowers. Level her with Kincaid for godssakes, and cut it out cos its not cute. 

By the by, the McSweeney's launch was thoroughly worth it. This gal just can't say no to books, so go ahead and roll your eyes to (a million) heavens all you may.




current mood: satisfied
current music: the album leaf - eastern glow
current obsession: cadence

words and lies and things cemented

when i was growing up, i would occasionally overhear the words 'there is no such thing as unconditional love', in the conversations of my elders, throughout the years.

today, i told someone that i loved them. i have often said these words, to many people, in many ways. and today, i meant them.
but today, in return, they lied.

today, i told someone that i hated them. i have never in my life said these words, to anyone, in any way. and today, i meant them.
and today, in return, a glorious silence.


all this to say, there is no such thing as unconditional love. as evidenced today.

and today, in return, i am going to be alone forever. because there is no such thing as unconditional love. and that is the one thing my crippled heart needs.

i've a bad habit

i get engaged a lot.
probably too much.

:/


(ps. but if i could, i'd totally marry one of the boys from "duck dynasty". what what....!)

oops.

damnit.

current mood: stumped/befuddled
current music: neil young - harvest moon

if a sad girl quietly cries all alone in her apartment on the outer edge of a city,
...does she exist?





cuurent mood: its never enough
current music: joan of arc - this life cummulative

time speeds up and slows down several times a day and sometimes i can not keep up, but usually my mind can, and it likes to go faster, or go slower. did i mention i was in los angeles? yes this is where i am. i am here because my bipolar disorder decided to rear its devil horns into my life and the collective THEY thought i needed to be locked away. at first i conceded, because i was too weak from the bipolar ride to protest or excuse or blame or think of anything else. but when i got to my mom's house, she told me that she couldnt do it. she couldnt do it because last time, twelve years ago, she was so scared of the zombie they had turned me into that she dragged me out of there AMA (against medical advice) and regreted locking me up in the first place. i am glad she told me this because i do not remember that at all. my mind recalls only a whirlwind of voices above my head and then walking outside in my new fuzzy pajamas. so now i am here at my moms house because she is doing better these days and she has cable. she is taking her medication and the occassional zanax when she is anxious. i notice that she takes more zanax when i am here.

name tag says 'bipolar'

Today. April 1st.
so. yes. it is night. it is night and i exercised and i glued and i read and i did not much else besides that. it is night and i am back in touch with the german. i am back in touch with the german but i have told him i am out of town. i have told him i am out of town because i do not want to see him. i do not want to see him or anybody else until i have lost ten pounds.
so i am on the master cleanse. i am on the master cleanse and today was day 1 and i did great.
that was today. my today.

yesterday i felt like i woke up a million times. all of a sudden i looked around and nothing  made sense and everything made sense. that feeling when you wake up and open your eyes and it takes a few seconds for your brain to kick in, and let you know that yes you are awake and you are Here and the Life switched is turned On for the day. they call it 'coming to'. i have that feeling several times a day. i have that feeling several times a day. i have that feeling several times a day and it lets me know that my reality is very mismatched with itself. gone are hours or people or days or conversations or schedules or meals or shows or books or entire bottles of wine. they dont make sense or they cant be explained by the me that is bound to wake up later or tomorrow or yesterday or two days from now.entire sections of my self dont make sense to me; at any given time i can not explain my self to myself. coming to.

is that insanity? insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. the only thing i do over and over like that is wake up every morning. i expect to wake up to a better me or a more energetic me or a more motivated me. or the me that can have a steady relationship, or the me that is an excellent housekeeper, or the me that has realistic, achievable goals and a Plan and a Direction and a Career.
but i never do. and each day i am heartbroken.
in the morning i am a sloth. in the day i am a spider, moving slowly, spinning webs and sometimes hanging from the ceiling. and i can bite or i can scare or i can crawl, crawl, crawl all day. in the night i am a pile. a pile of unchecked to-do lists, a pile of unanswered questions, a pile of mistakes, a pile of Quit, and a pile that drinks the wine to accompany the flavors of Quit, and a pile that makes ambitious and efficient lists for tomorrow. because tomorrow i will be full of energy, i say. tomorrow i will be efficient and productive and well on my way to perfect mental health. tomorrow i will be a new me and finally be good at Life. tomorrow.
but tomorrow is like today. and today is like yesterday. and yesterday is like tomorrow and i am in a spinning tornado and nothing changes expect when i 'wake up' sporadically throughout the day.
i am between Everything and Nothing. i am between verbose and mute. i am between alive and dead. i am Somwhere and Nowhere. i am between up and down and side to side and noise and silence and Love and debilitating Apathy.
i am between Everything and Nothing. that is where i can be found. that is where i can be lost. between everything and nothing. slowing down to the speed of sound. racing up the beat the grass to the surface, the surface of the life i dont have, the life i failed to design, the life i forget about because instead i am between.

so i watch them walk away. i always remember what they look like when theyre leaving. i can smell when they have begun to rot from the poison of my disorder.
but they were warned. from the beginning, they were warned. every single one, every single time, they were warned.
and my lips have memorized 'goodbye' but my heart never did.

Work In Progress

pardon my dust.

In heaven everybody listens to Slowdive

and in hell they are all forced to listen to margot and the nuclear so and so's and read science fiction

hahahahahahaha

hahahahahahahaha

hahahahahahahaha


current mood: edgy
current music: slowdive - catch the breeze

fraility, thy name is woman

today i was on the bus and i felt all kinds of surreal. i am choosing to attribute it to my new med cocktail, but i can never tell anymore.
i came home and stared at the blank tv for half an hour before i realized it worked better when it was turned on.

ive been listening to a lot of The National lately. it feels highly appropriate.
especially this one:

current mood: and then i tripped on my cupcake and signed up for basket wars
current music: the national - conversation 16

i think the kids are in trouble...

Lets call it a Hiatus Appropriatus

Why?
...because
because sometimes the pen can not keep up with the brain pushing it
because i've turned over like 5 new leaves and the world needs to know
because i get lonely and writing here makes me feel like i'm talking to folk
because i've insanely deep thoughts and your life is better for knowing them
and because i've a writer living inside me and i hardly ever let her out and it just makes her get louder and increasingly needy

So, anyway, here I am again. I welcome myself back. I've missed the eye strain of the screen and the clickity-clack of the keyboard.
Loads of time has passed and admittedly I got worse before I got better.
Where I am now is a (relieved to be) single gal, full-blown Bipolar, desperate to finish up with the daunting black cloud that is my master's thesis, now proudly A Best Friend, an avid reader and a gainer of ten lbs that have been politely asked to leave this frame but, upon their defiance, are about to be brusquely ushered out.

I dated and dated and and dated, to no avail. I tried patience, I tried fervor, I tried apathy, I tried complacence. I was wined, dined and intertwined, but I just couldn't lasso up enough feelings. They were either arrogant or meek, pushy or doormats; all were just so utterly mediocre and achingly insipid.

**Let it be known now:

I'd rather just be single and not have to worry about being nice to someone all the time.**

Being Bipolar is rough enough. It's a whole endeavor to be nice to and nurture myself. I really can't be bothered to do it twice!

So here I am. A little worse for the wear, but slightly renewed and really, well, just quite ready.

current mood: red carpet green envy
current music: queen - under pressure