Believe it or not

I do think, legitimately, it is bad luck for me to wear matching socks. I have not worn matching socks in years. So many years, I cannot remember how many. The closest I will get is matching patterns in different colors, but they can never be the same color.

I do actually get the hint when people don't want to spend time with me, even if it's not the hint I want to get. I'm just stubborn.

I meditate in the shower. My mind never shuts up. Most people have a little voice; I have a debate team, at least six different instruments, a lawn mower, and a choir. The white noise of the shower water helps drown that shit out so I can get some inner stuff taken care of.

I bleached my hair seven times to get it light enough to turn lavender. It took 3.5 months. I dye it every week; mixed into a concoction and saran wrapped to my head for a minimum of one hour. (It's usually closer to 3-4) I'm dedicated.

I am arrogant and shy at the same time. I don't understand either. I am also curious and introverted, intense and soft, loud and invisible. I might be an alien.

I'm an alien.

Believe it or not-

                                 It's past my bedtime

moonGLORIOUSgloriouslyOUT.

Mer!

Mer.

Mer mer mer mer, mer. Mer mer mer mer. Mer mer.

Mer.
Mer mer.

MER.

This update has been brought to you by the Coucil of Mer.

I went to the circus and it was fucking awesome.
Pretty positive my hand is fractured. My wrist and elbow and shoulders are all jacked up.
Thanks, Haylee P.
You fucking twit. You suck.
Lern 2 drive. 
And tell your mommy she won't be able to fight your battles for you and hide you away from the world forever.

My chiropractor is incredibly kind this time, and their office manager knows me from work and loves my jewelry. So at the very least, those experiences are as pleasant as they can be for getting cracked and acupuncture'd.

When people ask your friends if you're crazy behind your back.
Officer Hitler.
My life.


Fuck it. I'm doing the best I can.
I have an art show tomorrow. I'm wearing a goddamn sexy dress and I get to play Social for the evening.
At the very least, I'll have a wonderful time. 

**

And maybe there has to be a point

where everything explodes

and you get a reset.

Or maybe

you explode

instead.

maybe one day we'll find

that place where you and i

could be together. and we'll 

catch our dreams within the

waves of change. so smile

for me one last time and

believe that we'll meet again.

until then, i'll be missing

you.

r.m. drake

Daily is an understatement.

Hourly.

I'll forget eventually.

But I will always 

always think

how unfair it was

that I got to taste something so close to perfection

And knew what it was to feel

like the hole that's been empty since birth

is finally

filled;

only to find

in this life

it may just remain empty..

Sending every ounce of juju in my heart to change yours

daily.

Daily is an understatement.

Hourly.

i

will crawl through your hair

tangled up and fallen,

and burrow deep into your dream.

i will be the wish

you were too scared

to make.

moon.

If you ever stop and wonder

If you are in a place to wonder
If you allow your mind to wander
Along that Moonlit winding
Path
And you're wistful
And you're thinking wishing
Blue never stopped thinking about you.

Too many. Too much. The things.

I'm a fool. 

mewn.

I could

post a really passive aggressive blog entry, but I won't.

 (just a little bit of one.)

I had been feeling, lately, like I'd been depending on you too much.

Thanks, universe.

My car is totaled. Value unknown. 

Farewell, Moonmobile.

I am all alone here. And yet, I am not alone. 

I went for a run

I went to the park

I thought thoughts. 

I had fun without you.

My feelings are hurt. 

Lots of emotions. Anger. Determination. Desolation. Decadently dangerous cocktails of things that probably aren't supposed to be together at the same time. And so, like I've learned to do, when I don't know what to do....

Do nothing. 

I'll do me. 

Eventually she'll go home

But this is my home

And there is nothing to go back to. Things just are 

they are the way they are

and they just are. 

They were that way

And now they are this way.

I'm miles away.

I don't want to come back.

Ignoring is easier. 

Maybe my car is totaled because the new one I get will be good enough to take me out of this state and into a brand new life. No attachments. (JackJack doesn't count as an attachment.) I want to go to Denver.

British Midland doesn't fly to Denver.

mOON

Cheddar Pepper Updates

If you're concerned about JackJack

don't be.

He's fine. He pulled through like a little trooper

But wait, there's more!

A gigantic half ton Silverado ran a stop sign and rammed me.

I'm hurt, but I'm fine. Didn't break any bones.

My shoulder is fucked. My wrist and neck and cheekbones and fingertips hurt.

I can't see a doctor yet -

-it's the weekend, and their insurance company has been unreachable.

And until they play nice and accept fault (which would be pretty tough for them not to do when the police report says it was their bad) I am paying out of pocket for any medical care. And a rental car.

Which I had goddamn better have on Monday, or I am going to be a very pissed off Mooncat.

Little tiny teenage girls driving big giant trucks that they cannot control: fuck off and die. You guys are cocksuckers, and you deserve to have your licenses revoked until you learn how to drive properly. You two  dumbass little ignorant basic bitches and your country bumpkin rhinestone-studded butt mother, seriously, 

goest thou to hell and swiftly please.

I'll be stuck in this house until further notice. At least I'm being productive.

Work two days, vending three days..this week is gonna be my bitch whether it likes it or not.

M.

Last night I and magnet and my mom were at the doggy ER with JackJack for hours.
He had some bizarre allergic reaction to a bug
got shot up with Benadryl and IV fluids
and we took him home.
He's still not himself. Not entirely.
He's on antibiotics for an infection he may have in his prostate. I think they make him sleepy.
I hope that's all it is. I need him to be okay.
This is making me sick.

Please anyone, if you're reading this, and you know and love JackJack (to know him is to love him), send him good juju and healing doggy vibes. He needs it, and I need it. I want to be able to tell people they have been overcome by fluff for years and years still. Jack and I thank you, deeply, from the bottom of our very different hearts. He is my entire world.