I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve, I have a history of takin' off my shirt

Briefly:
Discontent? Moderately so.
Creativity has increased, though. A "wounded" Caitlin is a creative Caitlin.
Such a splintered thing.

Mae, I started the painting I want to sell to get you to Dain.
Yes, really.
♥

Puke like a pterodactyl

I keep running into people I haven't seen/heard heads or tails from in ions. Babies having babies. Parents of childhood friends, bullies that don't remember breaking my brother's ribs in elementary school that slap me on the back and ask how same brother is doing. They reek of nostalgia, high school, hair grease and cheap cologne. Not all necessarily a bad thing, but like many things, they are good in small doses.
There's nowhere to go but here, a series of stripmalls with a mayor, a house party with pieces of the wall missing and painted over (sidenote: said-house party was the first time in a while I felt awkward for showing up somewhere alone)

I have frequented a bar so often in the Tri-City, that rather than just informing the bartender that some kids lost their lunch in the back, and so she doesn't have to worry about it on her smoke break, I go as far as to swipe at it with the mop that's kept by the ice machine, next to the service sink.

I need to get out of here. Too many inebriated or far too sober moments of going back and forth through the doorways, always dependent on company, but still a varying level of wondering, "What the fuck am I doing here?"

In other news:
Plans have been solidified to be civil and asphyxiate in the nostalgia of being 16, clumsy and shy, on the third day of 2010, and have a cup of coffee.

Only 9 days left in 2009.
I'm running on no sleep and stuttering fingers.

Insomnia meatloaf [that's not vegan],
xo
see.eye.

Its nothing but time and a face that you lose

It took me a few seconds to recognize your dad when he came into my work. He's just as I remember him, actually, kind of sweet and intelligibly bumbling. There's a little bit more gray in his hair. He sold us 14 boxes of books, mostly old romance novels. Were they your grandmother's? He was looking for radio transistor manuals, I guess he and your mom liked playing around with your sound equipment too. I didn't know they had gotten licenses to broadcast on the radio. I don't know if it was out of habit that he told me you were coming back for your birthday.

Did you know your cousin is getting married? You know the one I dated two years before I met you?

God that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said 'yes I think we've met before'
In that instant it started to pour

I found a box of the comics we did together in high school. Remind me to show you sometime.
To the sound of the pouring rain,
see.eye.