Austria, you're alright.

Not all that long ago I was here:

Further proof:

I was in Austria and I was happy.

I saw interesting things like this:

And I ate gross things like this:

It was warm and sunny but once I got stuck in an amusement park during a thunderstorm. I sat in an Austrian pizza place where I could safely watch people run umbrellaless in the pouring rain, then I felt sick and was afraid to go on any rides.

Oh, and there's an Ice cream shop that has this in front:

It spoke to my heart for obvious reasons.

But Facebook, I'd rather not.

It is a strange thing when facebook suggests you write something on the wall of a friend you have who is now dead.
"Help make Facebook better for him", those soul-less bastards over at facebook insist.
They shouldn't suggest such things.
It's really depressing.
Unlike just about everyone else in my generation, I'm trying really hard to get by without needing meds.
Thanks for helping to make the drug option look increasingly appealing assholes.

I broke your grandma's snowglobe

You know when you're certain that everything in your life is going to change but you don't know how and you can't say when? You know it because all of a sudden nothing looks like how it did before but you can't say why. It's like your little life is in a snowglobe, things turn upside down and you're watching it happen under all this water, slowly, you're watching it happen but there's all this sparkly shit in the way, this makes everything interesting and beautiful but confusing and mysterious and sometimes frustrating. Sometimes I wish I could fast-forward, I want to shake the globe so fast I can see past all the sparkle, so I know what happens. Change is scary, it's completely necessary, but terrifying, I'm freaked out. Maybe if I just knew what happens I wouldn't be so afraid?
Maybe I should grow a pair and live.

What if we all woke up one day suddenly able to fly?

October

Carry me around like a giant pink backpack
Take me with you wherever you go
Watch over my contents, hearts are irrecoverable
zip me up, keep mine safe.

 

glow girl

When it's 6:32 in the morning and you're sitting on the train wearing black polka dot tights and eating the most delicious puffy buttery bagel, so gooey and warm it melts in your mouth, the events of the night before still crisp to your senses, they're popping all around you, making you glow...this is when life is beautiful.

What Do You Know?

Tell me something new and exciting.
Tell me something I haven't already heard.
Tell me about your day.
Tell me all about your life.
I'll tell you something old and boring.
I'll tell you something I already know.
I'll tell you about my day.
I'll tell you all about my life.

Build Yourself A House

I like drawing houses. I don't know why exactly but there's something comforting about linking a series of straight lines, knowing that every line is going to turn into something big, something with structure, something everyone can understand and relate to, something that in a small but significant way speaks to the soul. I refuse to use a ruler, my lines are not perfect and the final result is never wholly symmetrical, but each house has character, each house looks like a home, each carefully drawn but imperfect house is satisfying both to look at and create.
I am drawing a house with tiny black lines, and inside I'm beaming.  

Are you there God?

It's me, Jesus.

On refusing to eat and feeling alive

When I get upset, I wash dishes. Sometimes I'm so upset that I can't see the water pouring from the faucet through all the water pouring from my eyes. They fuse together to form a sort of Niagara Falls in my kitchen and the effect is rather calming. Washing dishes is the perfect thing to do while upset, for one thing it's a mindless task. Pick up sponge, pour neon green liquid over sponge, run under hot water, watch foam slowly take over sponge, grab dirty plate, rinse plate, run foamy sponge over plate, rinse plate again, arrange clean plate on dish rack, repeat. Again and again, sometimes with a fork or a crusty pan, but always monotonous, familiar, simple, clean. Now the mind has been given a break and your hands have been given something to do. You're upset, but you're not being upset under a blanket somewhere, you're doing something productive, and somehow that makes you feel better. When my tears run parallel to the faucet, when my hands are covered in warm foam and the water is so hot it burns, that's when I feel alive. This makes my mother crazy though. I won't talk to her about what upsets me because she already thinks she has everything all figured out. How can you tell someone what's going on in your head when before they ask you they first tell you? You can't, so you say you can't talk and go wash dishes and refuse to eat. This makes her say, "Nothing is going to get better by not eating." and "Have some apple stuff so I know you're still alive." But you are alive, because here you are, you're washing dishes, you've successfully created Niagara Falls in your kitchen, you and the faucet are in sync, you and the dirty plates and forks and crusty pans are all being cleansed in scolding hot water and when the ritual is complete, your hands will tingle, you'll feel it, and you'll know you're still alive.