Broken promises and transgendered bouncy balls.

Did that just happen? I'm confused. I'm pretty sure Keely got drunk, hooked up with a trans man at a bar in front of a crowd, walked back home with him barefoot while scaling a cliff in Manayunk along the way, and then slept with him.

I am both amused and confused by the insanity that occurred last night. Actually, I'm wondering if I'm in the twilight zone.

I couldn't get them home. I had to basically drag them for a mile, them stopping at every chance they could to make out against something. It was definitely amusing. They had so many spectators. This one guy was so funny. He looked at them when they stopped for a second and said "Oh coming up for air, are we? That's good." I couldn't get them to walk straight either. I've never watched two people drunkenly bounce off of things that often in such a short period of time. They were like bouncy balls.

I've also never had so many men try to take me home in one night. I was minding my own business, dancing around like a crazy girl and every four seconds another guy would cut in and start laying on the creepyness. I've never said "I'm not into guys" so many times in one night. And they were so disappointed too. I must've had my shine on last night.

Anyway, in other news, I've been avoiding everything. I've been avoiding all of the tasks that my friends have given me. For instance, I told my friend Nikki that I'd do her resume weeks ago. I'm just so blah. I don't want to do anything. All I do anymore really is bake, cook, clean, and go out for the occasional drink or two. Oh, and write. I hope no one is taking it personally.

Kind of strange though because one of the only people other than Keely that I talk to on a regular basis right now is ... my mom. Yes, my fucking mom. I've made it a habit to call her every day after work, even if I have nothing to say. I just want to build a relationship with her. Maybe one day she will be less abrasive towards me. We shall see. We've progressed past talking only about the weather, which is a nice step.

I don't know. Life is good though, despite my inability to adhere to the promises that I've been making.

Tonight felt amazing. Really, my heart is tingling. I felt genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

I'm 24 years old and things have changed so much since last year, when I was 23. When I was 23, life was crazy. I drank too much, I cried too much.. but I did have the most fun I've ever had in my entire life. And I had so few responsibilities. I lived with amazing people, I had amazing friends. I spent a lot of time improving my writing skill. Life was crazy, life was sad.. but life was also good. Really good.

And tonight I felt that stability that I used to feel. The feeling that life is so amazing and life is so perfect.

Back when I lived with the boys, a year ago, I had about a million less responsibilities. And I remember driving to Keely's place late at night and not coming home until 6 in the morning, just to leave for work in an hour. I remember Keith coming over, large gatherings at the house, getting tossed onto the pool table in front of a bunch of people in my residence that I didn't know. It was such a free feeling. Calling up my friends to go on walks to nowhere at 4 in the morning. Going out dancing until the bar closed on random days (like Wednesday) just to nearly die at work the next day. I remember cruising all over the place, like New Hope.

Things were so free. And tonight.. TONIGHT I felt free. The most free I felt in a long time.

When I lived with the boys I'd often wake up at strange hours of the night and go on cruises by myself. The boys would ask me where I was going and I'd say "I don't know, around." And that's what I'd do. I'd drive around. Sometimes at 10pm, sometimes at 3am, sometimes I didn't even know what time it was. I'd just go with no destination in mind.

Tonight, I did just that. And I drove around some of the same places that I used to go (which happen to be closer to my new apartment now). And these places made me feel the same way that they used to make me feel.. only now it felt more intense. Because now I'm at a more comfortable place in my life.

It felt so good. I just wanted to drive around forever. Every time I saw a turn that looked pleasing, I'd take it. You know, driving slow with the windows down at the music blaring. Nice comfy clothes.

Things can only get better from here, because now I recognize that I'm still the same person that I was a year ago. Only now I'm a lot wiser, and I make a lot less mistakes. Things can feel just as free as they used to, only a little less crazy.

A successful writer.

It is kind of hard to fail at something when there are really no guidelines set for what "succeeding" really means. I am very lucky that I have found a passion in which I can set my own guidelines for succeeding. I am a writer and I have succeeded in this because I have set the following guidelines:

Put writing first. Write regularly (every day if possible). Attempt different styles.

I definitely put my writing first. For instance, I have given up on my teaching career at the moment because I'm not willing to sacrifice time that would otherwise be spent on developing my writing skill. I definitely write regularly and I usually work on my writing every single day. And yes, I constantly attempt different styles.

Now, it's fascinating because people tell me that I'm not really a writer because I don't make money off of my writing.

Okay, so let's say there is a painter and his entire house is filled with beautiful brilliant paintings that he has painted. He is still a painter even though he's not making money off of his art.

Writing, to me, is not about money. (Cliché, I know). I look for writing positions online now and then and there are a bunch of openings in Center City. But really, that's not what I want to spend my time on. I have a full time job that pays my bills. I know that I would absolutely love getting paid to do what I love.. but right this second I'm more interested in working on my personal pieces. And my personal pieces provide no pay. I'm okay with that.

I am in the midst of a writing project that has all of my attention. A collection of poetry. It's loosely molded at the moment but every day I move one step closer to gaining cohesiveness.  Right now it is comprised of a little over a hundred poems. Tomorrow I'm going to the art museum for a few hours to hopefully gather some inspiration and hopefully move even closer to the cohesiveness that I desire.

This collection includes a weird mix that creates an interesting feel. Let me put it this way.. it's what you would get if you would throw Robert Frost, Andy Warhol, and Fishtown into a blender. I didn't mean for that to happen but it did. And I like it. This blended concoction smells like pine trees and beer and is colored hot pink and teal. Served in a mason jar, mind you.

It's about isolation in a crowded world. The happiness and sadness found in this isolation. It's a coming of age tale about a girl who barely gets by, dragging herself along a dirty sidewalk with no one by her side.

I think it feels pretty contemporary with a little hint of traditionalness thanks to my Robert Frost inspiration. Some of it takes on feelings of inadequacy and some of it is littered with a pretentious feeling.. someone trying far too hard to appear amazing when they are actually pretty mediocre.

I don't know. I probably sound crazy. Another guideline for a successful writer that I have failed to include in the guidelines I have given you. Again, I don't know.

So what am I going to do with this collection when it is done? Ehh... I'll probably just stare at it. Read it now and then. Put it in a corner and get started on my next collection. Dust it off now and then. Wish upon a star that it'll outlive me. That's really all that I want, really.

“We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.”