New Orleans or bust (my brains out this mortal cage)

     What if I did just up and leave. Nobody wants me around here no more, I can accept that, it's my fault after all. What if I moved to New Orleans, or Virginia, or somewhere stupid like Sacramento. It is a terrible idea really, I don't have a degree, no meaningful job experience, barely enough saved up depending on where I go, and I can't fly because my passport is expired, so I'd have to drive my low MPG truck across this godforsaken country. A girl can dream though, New Orleans. With real alligators, good food, and cheaper rent than Seattle. That's probably a pipedream if I'm serious but it has been keeping me going lately. New Orleans, the Bayou, the Real Swamp, where a Gator like me belongs. Could be a good fresh start, brush this old me off and try again, a fifth time, or sixth, or seventh. How ever many it takes before I find a place I can settle into, dig my roots in deep, Make Friends, Keep Them. Plenty of musicians down there would love a drummer, I might need to learn jazz though.... worth looking into?

      Another thing that has kept me going lately is remembering that I am a result of what I am taught and my environment. My therapist raised a great point last session, they said I didn't have good boundaries modeled for me as a child. My father cared not if we wanted privacy, if we didn't want to be touched, if we wanted pretty much anything he didn't agree with. My mother, though less extreme, wasn't any better. I wasn't taught love, or care, empathy, consent, I wasn't taught respect, for myself or others, only authority. Furthermore I was frequently pressured to do things I didn't want to, all throughout my childhood. To the point where I thought it was normal, which led me to do so to others. It kind of makes sense in a way. Not that it's an excuse, I still was taught wrong from right, I know what the word No means, I knew better, then and now. There's always a choice, and I chose poorly based on the cards I was dealt. Learning these things, seeing them in this context is helping me understand how I was able, capable, of committing such heinous acts. Ideally, this will help prevent future fuckups. Ideally, but I've always found a way. I can't change my previous actions, I can barely explain how they happened, but I can change my behaviour for the future, for the better. And I can attone, partially based on the advice of someone who reached out recently I set up reoccurring monthly donations to RAINN and the Sylvia Rivera Law Project. It's not much, but I don't plan on cancelling them anytime soon, it sucks that I'm throwing money at this problem, but the money is going to help victims of people like me, and worse people, and I'm okay with that. Besides it's a constant reminder of what I've done, a penance if you will, so that it will not fade into the background, so that I will not slip into my old ways. Similarly, I debated throwing out a picture I've carried in my wallet for years. A picture of me and a friend who I care for very dearly. Said friend no longer wants anything to do with me, which I can accept of course. A  completely reasonable response. So I technically don't have a reason to carry the photo around anymore, and yet... I cannot bring myself to do it. So I keep it, as a reminder of the things I've lost because of my actions. The people I have hurt because of my actions. What kind of stakes are on the line when I act in the world. Both of these things serve to keep me on the proverbial "right path" which is hopefully, what I 'm on, whatever that means. Whether its growth, or learning, or making amends or bettering myself or all of it.

    I've been trying to return to some feeling of normalcy, start taking better care of myself for once, and taking it seriously. Eating well, getting a nice fancy skincare routine, perfumes, makeup, a cute purse, these things are starting to make me feel like myself again. I haven't felt like myself in so long, I think it's about time Allie shows herself. My style is evolving too, its strange how my life gets all fucked up and I randomly start dressing better. The idea is; if I can treat myself better, everything follows, I will treat others better, and that's the goal here isn't it? Or is it literally just not kill myself this year?  I guess that's up to me, no reason it can't be both. With that comes less hate in these posts, I'd been dumping a lot of pent up anger and disdain here, because I was angry, because I felt betrayed, and though nobody reads them anymore save one person (who may not be reading them any longer?) that person expressed that the hate I put into these posts will just come back around to me. Karma, divine intervention, magic, whatever you call it, it's not good to dwell on those feelings anyways. I needed to express that rage, the anger, the betrayal, and in doing so; process and Leave It Behind. I cannot leave it behind if I dwell and continue to bring it up. The best I can do is wish those who I perceived as wronging me* the best (*though really they were just humans who made mistakes too).  I hope Choly becomes successful, I hope that it benefits all the members, art department included, I hope that someday I'll get a spotify notification that Choly is going on tour near me. Won't go, no I don't think so, but I hope it happens. I hope my ex boyfriend keeps up on the guitar, and continues practicing his vocals, starts his own band like he wanted. I hope that screamo band I was removed from plays a shit ton of shows and gets the recognition that they deserve, I hope all the friends I've betrayed go on to make art and do beautiful great things without me, I hope they live long fulfilling lives. I really had to fight the bitterness inside me to feel that, there was a part of me that wanted to bite back, say well why should I take advice from someone who has deemed me unworthy of their continued friendship, why should I give a single flying fuck what you think? And yet, I do. I give many flying fucks what you think, about as many as I could throw. You were always right afterall, wiser than I ever will be. You said it yourself, that I'm not a monster, and I've come to realize that now too. What I truly am is human, and to be human is to fuck up, and learn from it, and become better, and fuck up again, different this time, but learn from that too and become even better, so on and so forth till you're on you're dying bed, the best you'll ever be. I know I'll never see you again, and I probably won't hear from you on my birthday or see you at my wedding or whatever, but I hope in death we could share a beer at some dingy dive bar in the weird part of wherever we end up, and we can talk. Till then I'll miss you, thanks for being my friend for so long.

   The song for this one (back by singular demand) is Tower by Greg Freeman.

P.S. I read your blog post from april today, I forgot you even had a blog. I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend man, and yes, it is humiliating to have my friends hang out without me, but they aren't my friends anymore, they're yours now. Treat them well. They deserve someone like you. You called me shallow, and hell you're probably right, you posted that in April and I only just read it, I may be shallow, but I still care about you. I keep you with me, and now you are my reminder to do better. 

Who Am I?

     Well I haven't died yet. What else is new. Where do I go from here? what's next? Theoretically anything, but I have to want it first, not on just a primal level, that will only get me so far, but with my whole heart and soul. Currently getting my heart, soul, mind, and body to work together in any way or agree on anything feels impossible. I spent my time yearning for things lost, and people who care not for me.  Although it has been revealed to me pretty directly that some people for Whatever reason still read this bullshit. I couldn't fathom why until I talked to my therapist about it. They said it pretty plainly. Those people still care about me, they are just keeping themselves safe by keeping me at a distance. It makes sense really, I haven't given anyone a reason to reach out besides keeping me from jackson pollocking my grey matter all over the walls, what's the worth talking to me if all I do is whine and complain about circumstances I made for myself? naw I get it, and honestly I don't expect those people to reach out again. It wasn't so much an "I'm here for you" as it was an "I still want you alive." much to my own dismay. But where was I? Oh right, yearning for things lost, time wasted, etc. I've decided to try and avoid that, as well as try and take my mind off the guilt of my past.

    How? Great question! I don't know. Its a rough process, but being alone is allowing me to learn things about myself that I never cared to know. How judgemental I can be, but also selfless, how hypocritical I can be, but also how willing I am to admit it, and roll things back to see where I'm wrong. I'm learning about things I'd never thought I'd enjoy, sewing or gardening to pass the time, playing cards with mom, learning new recipes, crafting ones of my own! Learning about myself is allowing me to find parts of me I actually like, and amplify them! All this to drown out that wretched little goblin who won't quit loading I hate everything bullets into an I want to die revolver. That little voice that says I can't live with the guilt is still there, and unfortunately it's here to stay, at least according to my therapist. Guilt doesn't leave, and you can't really make it go away through any sort of coping methods. You just live with it, and hope that it makes you better in the future. My issue isn't guilt, that's normal and expected, it's always been the shame. I'm ashamed to open my mouth, I'm ashamed to keep it closed. The fact of the matter is that either way I won't be happy with myself. But by finding things I DO like about myself, it gives me fuel to fight the goblin with. One of those recent decisions has been to drum every day again. Even if its just 30 minutes, not playing songs just warm ups and shit, whatever. Just Get behind the Kit at least once everyday. If I'm going to be a miserable and unlikable cunt I had better be a Damn Good Drummer to justify it. I've started running double kick drills again, and I actually feel like I'm finally building some skill there! I've also added more difficult songs to my practice playlist, songs I thought I'd never be able  to play, and I'm happy to say that I'm making some progress with them! That feels good. Seeing my own improvement makes me feel like I can improve... other areas as well. 

    I've been trying to help others more with my time, I helped my sister move, and I might be donating some old drum gear to her new place, its a bunch of musicians and I'm not using Three fucking kick drums. Last sunday I helped out at an old family friend's house. Doing household chores and maintenance that they are simply too old to do. They insisted on paying me of course,but I also didn't fight it that much, as I continue to exist in a capitalist (post capitalist? neo capitalist? can we just say dystopian?) society that requires money, and I simply do not have enough as it stands. My name change went through okay, and I've got an appointment scheduled to change my SSC to match, then I can get a new ID and update all my other info with the IRS and such. Then I will legally have the most badass and awesome name ever! I've also been attempting to change how I speak to others a lot. It's been tough, I'm trying to use little cheats to get better at conversation, like just parroting back what someone said so they expand on it, allowing conversation to flow naturally, taking genuine interest to see if I can learn something, instead of just waiting for my turn. If only anyone actually wanted to talk to me! Oh well.

    Something else that's been on my mind recently is solitude. Perhaps my path is one walked best alone. Maybe All signs point to the fact that I'm better off when left to my own devices, I function best when I am by myself. Maybe that's the way it's meant to be. I've been running from solitude all my life, perhaps that's my problem. Maybe I need to learn to enjoy being by myself before I can be around others, maybe I'm not meant to be around others. Clearly I don't know how to act. I don't know, it's a scary thought, I don't know why it scares me though. You know that saying? Curiosity killed the cat? well it's true for Gators too. I found out that my old band is playing shows again, for whatever reason it really messed me up. I knew I was upset over it but I couldn't for the life of me pin down why. I'd like to say that I'm happy for them and that they deserve to play and that i should be happy to see the music exist with my involvement or not, I really do. That's not how I feel though. I just wish I knew why. All people would say was that I "clearly still cared" Cared about what? The people in the band? you mean the 24 year old I knew for all of maybe 5 months and the backstabbing fucker who used me for two years? Sure they were my friends, At one point Trevor was my "Best Friend" but thinking back, I never really felt like I could talk to them. I couldn't trust them with my emotions, my secrets, the troubles that plagued me. I got to hear all about their worries, but I never felt like I could open up. I truly wish them well, but I've come to realize they never crossed the line into Friends! I kept them at a distance. (more on this later!) So do I care about the music then? Sure, the drums I put my own blood, sweat, and tears into?(Literally) but they aren't using those drums anymore, is that what upsets me? No, I think it'd upset me more if they kept my drums. Maybe it's how quick the turnaround was. 3 months? kinda quick, I guess I just don't like being replaced. I don't know, I knew it would happen but I guess the spiteful bitch in me wanted the band to go down in flames. Whatever, it's stupid and petty to think like that. I hope their shows go well. I think what really bothers me, deep deep down in my guts, is the fact that they probably moved on, and here I am still thinking about this shit. They probably don't think about me fucking at all! Yet this gnaws at me like an obsession. Why am I like this? Why can't I let it go? I guess writing this is my attempt at letting go. I can't change the past. I can't undo what has been done. Sest lar vee or whatever they say in spain.

    Now about that thing I mentioned earlier. Keeping people at a distance. Why do I do that? I don't feel safe opening up to fucking anyone! Not even my ex, though I opened up to him more than most. People whom I called my friends, who considered me a close friend, I didn't trust them, or at least not enough to talk to them about how I felt. Why? I guess it hasn't gone so great for me in the past. Growing up, talking about my emotions wasn't really something I could do, I mean I could, but no one would listen. Hell I tried to off myself at age 11, that has to say something about vulnerability in the house I grew up in. I've tried to open up to lovers, that didn't go great. Been dumped because their "mental health" couldn't handle a relationship. I guess I decided that I Really had to trust someone before I could open up to them, I have such issues with considering people close friends, I don't know what it is about it that I struggle with so much. I can be friends with someone for a long ass time and still completely expect them to just, disappear one day, through one circumstance or another. Maybe That's what Portland taught me, or maybe all the moving around I've done in general. Every connection is temporary, I got too comfortable, started actually connecting with people, Bam! All gone. I mean fuck I don't think I've ever stayed in one place for longer than 4 years after moving the first time, my life has a funny way of ripping itself to shreds periodically like that, kind of hard to set down roots when that sort of thing happens. The only Longtime friend I've been actually able to maintain, who grew up with me, is in San Diego for college so I never see or hear from her. Maybe it's time for me to do that again, rip everything up and start over, move to bellingham or something like I planned, or further, or not so far, whatever. I could just get a room with a bunch of random fuckers, it don't matter, drastic change is what I need right now, maybe this would be a step in the right direction. I don't know anymore.

    I'm just so sick of feeling like this, I feel like I'm spiraling all the time, completely out of control and yet the soundest of mind I've been in three years. I feel delusional and completely logical at the same time, it makes no sense. I feel like I'm not in control of my emotions and yet so much more in touch with them than ever before, what the fuck is going on with me! I just want to feel normal again, but that's not happening any time soon. I just want it all to be over and done with, but I keep on finding new monumental ways to fuck-up and cause lasting damage to my own life and others! Everything is way too much, I'm constantly overwhelmed and I don't have time to recover because shit keeps HAPPENING! I'm stuck at a goddamn poker table getting dealt the worst damn hand every time and yet I keep staying in the game. For What!? I'm tired. Too tired for this. I'm goddamn exhausted, I don't know what happens now, I'm scared of that. Not that I've ever had a plan, what would be the point? I wasn't set up for the kind of life you plan out, anything I would have tried to do like that would have gone straight down the toilet in an instant. I'm not bright enough to go to college, couldn't even finish high school, I'm not good enough at the drums to do gigs, I work a dead-end job where they barely pay me enough to survive. What the fuck am I supposed to do, besides what I do right now. One day at a time and another day's gone. The happy times are only there to fill the gaps within the sad times, which are getting few and far between. I feel trapped, backed into a corner, everyone's turned their back on me and I deserve it. I still don't know that girl in the mirror, I can't even look her in the eyes anymore. I stare and those eyes stare back. I can't recognize myself, Who am I? and Who is that. Who are you? 

I think this proves I won't live past 50 because I'm having my midlife crisis in my goddamn 20s. Except I can't buy a new car or get a hot girlfriend or do fucking anything but wallow in my own pathetic garbage. That's what I feel inside, when I think about my past, the band, my future, my current situation? I feel fucking pathetic. If I were stronger I'd be doing the things I need to move on, or at least trying. Is this what trying feels like? I just feel like a little bitch, a pathetic sack of old rotten bones sittin on the side of the road with water splashing over me and vagrants pissing on me. Sinking in the scum of the gutter, festering in a dumpster, bubbling at the bottom of a rainwater runoff. I can't kill myself because I'm already a fucking corpse, and my continued appearance in public is weirder than just digging a hole and burying myself already. And yet every morning I rise from that coffin and pull my bones into action. My rot infecting everything I touch, I leave bloody prints and rotted flesh, my stench fills the air. I force a smile, it rips my skin and bears too much teeth. I disturb everyone I see. I just can't justify it anymore. I'm so on edge and I'm just done. I'm fucking done.

So what changes? Not much. I'll live to see tomorrow, and after that? I guess we'll see, one day at a time and another day's gone.