Saturday, October 23, 2010


Have you ever been the smart kid? or the good kid? or the pretty kid?

The smart kid, she gets no praise for her good grades. Because, of course, that’s just what she does.

There’s no recognition for the good kids spot-free behavioral record. Cause its not like she's ever gonna be bad.

And the pretty kid, well she doesn’t need to be told so. She must obviously know it’s true already.

Its the ugly kid that needs someone to tell her she is beautiful. Give the bad kid another chance to prove herself. And the stupid kid, she needs a big bad gold star for those bright B minus report cards.

I used to be the smart kid, and the good kid.

But most of all, I was the weak kid.

I was the kick around girl, I was the punching bag, I was the sounding wall, I was the 24 hour, eight hundred number teen angst hotline. I took it like a champ. I took it.

Then I stopped.

I stopped listening.

I stopped caring.

I stopped commiserating, and pacifying, and understanding.

And I stood up.

I went on a one woman defensive showdown with the world.

A strike against the bully in the next room. Against the angry woman in the next car, the oppressive student development professor, even the, five twenty-five an hour, telemarketer from Wisconsin that just wanted to let me know about this exciting offer for another way to put me in debt.

The sweetest moments came when I stood my tallest. 5‘4.5” and a monolith of metaphorical muscle. When I told her to step back because one button press would be the cops on her ass. She should know better than to stand so close and spit her words in my face.

I told him he should feel it, because he was a piece of shit. He will know better than to crush me again.

The weakness is a ghost of myself. She stands there still. With the smart kid, the good kid, the ugly kid.

They watch me in my tilt-o-whirl evolution. My slip-trip-miss and fall down days. My golden god conquests. And those moments, quiet and alone and still confused as to which kid I am. Really.

Because, after all, my failures are only as great as my success.

Thursday, October 21, 2010


Leafing through my past life
Click, click, boom, there you stood
And I wanted to claw your eyes out
I wanted to reach through the plasma screen
Grab you, [levels balanced and skin clean]
By the collar of your trend whoring
Drop you on the desk top beside me
And then slam. Down on you
Smash. Leave your colors running
Make a pretty picture all red and pink
All marbled and swirling
And you wont be smiling
And you can stop pretending
That you did nothing for the shame
I'm calling double jeopardy
That’s worth this falsely focused blame