Letters to the judge.

It's strange how things from your past come back to haunt you after you've pretty much blocked them out of your mind.  There is one thing in particular that I think will repeat itself in my mind many times.

In July of 2009 I lived with my boyfriend, his parents, his brother, and his brother's wife. I was in the Lehigh Valley visiting my parents and I received a phone call.  The caller informed me that my boyfriend (Kevin) was in jail and that his brother was dead.

Someone killed his brother.

Absolutely frightened, I tried to get in touch with his mother. She was in a psychiatric hospital, crying and screaming, "Nicole, he's dead, I saw him in the driveway, he was blue!"

Sure enough, Brian was dead.  Kevin's dad had shot and killed him with my dad's gun.

It was such a bizarre tragedy.  I came home to police tape, a disheveled bedroom, a little neighborhood boy praying in the front yard, and a big puddle of blood on the basement floor.

I remember visiting his father in jail once a week and Kevin's mother going far off the deep end.  Once she asked me if I could help her gather some of the blood from the carpet, because she wanted to rub it onto the plants in the garden that Brian grew her.

Kevin, horrified by this, took a knife, cut out the section of the carpet that had the blood stain, and threw it away.  We went out for ice cream to get it off of his mind, at which point he realized that he got his brother's blood all over his pants.

It was the worst funeral that I ever attended in my life.  I remember entering the door to a packed catholic church and hearing loud, loud sobbing from Brian's widowed wife.  My dad's eyebrows dropped and under his breath he whispered, "oh my god."

Brian was a scary man.  He threatened to kill me, my family, and pretty much anyone who got in his way.  I remember the utter rage that would consume his body.  I was absolutely horrified of him all of the time.  The stories that I have involving Brian are stories that you would otherwise only see in a movie.

The whole incident that resulted in Brian's death began with him holding a gun and threatening to kill Kevin. Kevin's dad used another gun to try to scare Brian away from Kevin.  To this day, everyone tells me that they're thankful I wasn't home that weekend.  My dad is thoroughly convinced that I would have been killed that night.  Brian hated me more than anything.

So why am I writing about this?  To get it off of my chest.

I recently found four or five letters that we sent to the judge prior to Dave's sentencing.  Including the letter that I sent.  What a total mind fuck.  This, along with many other things in my bizarre life, will never disappear. Just add it to the list, I suppose.

House plants.

Just sent the following texts to a friend and I think it sums everything up pretty well:

"I've been very... to myself. But I like it. I feel like I'm unintentionally prepping myself artistically. I think I need to go with this whole isolation thing because I feel like it's dragging me somewhere on purpose. And if it's gonna bring me somewhere worthwhile (in regards to my writing)... I don't want to miss the train. I work on my writing every day, as you know, and I can sense that something bigger is on its way." 

 And then I felt guilty. Because in my isolation I am alienating my friends. I didn't want them to think I'm straying away from them because I don't love them, so I posted the following on Facebook to justify my separation:

 "It's scary how much I love to be alone. I was born to write, I guess. I feel like I'm marinating in my loneliness, and once I suck up all of the yummy lonely juice I'll be ready to write a best seller or something. Ha." 

 Best seller.. most likely not. But I just want everyone to know that my separation is not malicious in any way. I just need some time to reflect on my art form and to expand my horizons in regards to my writing career. Sculpting my skill is something that is very important to me and it is something that I can only do without company.

 Unless you count Lucinda. (My house plant).

non-jesus and wheat gluten

I've considered myself an atheist for many years. People always inform me that "agnostic" is a better term for what I am, but honestly I choose atheist because it is more set in stone. I was raised a Christian but learned quickly that first of all, the whole story is a bunch of nonsense, second of all, believers tend to be a very hateful crew, and lastly, I do not want to be associated with them at all. So I've adopted the term atheist in high school.

I bring this up because today is my most hated holiday. Easter. I hate it. Every year I have Jesus nonsense shoved down my throat. At first I tried having nothing to do with it but that didn't work because, as I said, it was being shoved down my throat. So then I decided to have a little secular chocolate bunny pooped-out Easter egg celebration every year. It's going rather well. All bunnies, no Jesus. I'm about to go make secular chocolate Easter eggs.

I love how everyone assumes that people have the same religion as them. My friend Jim wished me a happy holiday weekend and (he knows how I am, so I could do this) I said to him, "It's not my holiday weekend." He smiled at me. The assumptions seem to dissipate the closer you get to the city. Jim is from Doylestown.

Christmas is just much easier to de-Jesusize. All those reindeer and elves. It's just the holiday of giving to me. A time before the new year starts when it's all snowy and pretty outside when you show your loved ones that you care about them. Jesus can suck it.

I just really hate when people force things on me. Really. It's a serious issue I have.

I went to go visit my parents yesterday. Yes, yesterday, not today. It was a mini Easter strike. My dad said "The least you could have done was bring your grandmother some flowers." Ugh. Okay, I'll bring secular Easter flowers next year. The day before Easter. She was really upset that I wasn't there for her "Easter ham" and then teased me for a good half hour about my vegetarianism. My mother hopped in.

I was actually amused. It was kind of funny. I schooled my grandmother on how to be a vegetarian or a vegan. Her mind continues to be boggled by this. She doesn't understand that there is other food out there other than meat... lol!!! I tried explaining wheat gluten to her as well as bean burgers and such. I think the problem is that the media shows vegetarians as people who sit in front of a slab of tofu for dinner every night. I hardly even like tofu. It has to be prepared well.

My grandmother said "I have two pounds of butter in there. It was on sale. You can take some." And then I told her that I use vegan butter and she was so amused. I explained to her how vegans bake, for instance, substituting eggs with bananas and using vegan sugar (which isn't made with crushed up animal bones).

Her mind was just blown. I love that cute little woman! Anyway, happy secular Easter!

The one less traveled by.

Randomly decided to go to Boston with Keely and it was great. It was my first time there. We took a scenic route on the way up, which led us to a bunch of extremely large mansions in Connecticut. It was super fun. Keely is the best road trip person ever.

Upon our arrival in Boston, we went to the home of a cute lesbian couple that we're friends with. We stayed with them. They sort of live in a ghetto-y area. We found razor blades on their steps, their back yard was littered with broken bottles and bottle caps, and it was just all around creepy. But we survived and that's good.

The first night we watched Borat, drank, and the girls got high. Which was kinda mellow but I was totally feeling it. After our long scenic route road trip, we needed to just chill out and relax.

The next day was super fun. We went to the best vegetarian restaurant ever. I was madly in love with the food and couldn't get over it. And then I was amused by the toilets. In Philly there are dirty grimy city toilets. In Boston the toilets even ask you if you are flushing "solids" or "liquids" to save water.

Like I said, they lived in a ghetto-y area, but even the ghetto-y area was nicer than most places in Philly. Despite the razor blades and broken bottles.

After the best vegetarian restaurant ever, we went shopping in Cambridge. Which was super nice. The stores were great. I want to live there. Really. I want to move there right this second. After that, we went back home to watch Twin Peaks and eat the best vegan pizza ever. Seriously, staying with vegans was great. I thanked them for sharing their favorite foods with us.

Then we went to see Wild Flag in Boston which made me want to marry Carrie Brownstein.

The last day of the adventure was spent wandering around Boston with Keely and her dog. Stuffed my face with a burrito and a smoothie (Boston has the best food ever, I swear). I fell madly in love with the city at this point. It felt like home, to be honest. And I thought it was cute that all of the churches had gay pride flags on them. It was a very gay friendly place. I was surrounded by cute gay men everywhere.

If I were to move to the Boston area, I would probably move to Cambridge. It felt like a place that I could call home.

You know, I've been in my apartment for less than a year and I have already been looking at places closer to center city.. and now I'm even considering Cambridge.

I'm young, you know, and I have nothing tying me down. I can do whatever I want to do whenever I want to do it. I don't have a significant other. I don't even have pets. That's a great place to be in life. A place where you are literally as free as a bird and young enough to roam wherever you want to roam.

I am lucky. My life is fun. When I want to have fun, I have it. When I want to sit in my apartment and avoid humans, I sit in my apartment and avoid humans. When I want to go somewhere, I go. When I want to stay somewhere, I stay.

In the past I've emphasized that I am flighty. I think it's in my nature. I'd die without spontaneity. I absolutely hate making plans. Some preparation is necessary, but I really like to make most decisions as I go along. When people ask me "What's the plan?" ... my first thought is "I want to hit you" and my second thought is "this is stressing me out."

Keely is the same way, you know, and that's why we are perfect friends. The couple we stayed with kept asking us what our plan was.

"I don't know, uh.. we were kinda gonna just go. And like, wander, and see what we found along the way." They looked at us like we were crazy. But we wandered.. and we found plenty of awesome things along the way. I'm definitely going to have to head back up to Boston.

Next stop... Washington, DC. Keely and I are going to be staying with two gay boys this time, Nick and Robert. Exciting! This will hopefully occur sometime within the next two months.

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.”

one of those annoying omnivores

I'm partaking in one of my new routines at the moment. My "cinnamon whole wheat french toast with a cup of coffee on Saturday morning" routine. Paired with a glass of lemon juice diluted with water to make sure all of the good stuff from my multi-vitamin absorbs into my body.

Speaking of food, my mother hates me. Okay, not really. I mean, she hates a lot of things about me. She hates that I like women, she hates that I'm a democrat, she hates that I'm an atheist, and... (here it comes) she hates that I'm mostly vegetarian.

I've gotten grief over this for years. I'm not going to get into the history of my eating habits because that would bore you. But I've been mostly a vegetarian for a few years now and that smells way too much like hippy for my super-conservative Christian gay-hating republican mother. And yesterday she brought out the hate. I always avoid bringing up the topics of religion, politics, sexual orientation, eating habits and.. everything really. (Because my mother hates everything about me.) But she was at the grocery store and I was cranky so it kind of just happened.

First let me tell you why I'm a vegetarian. Firstly, because meat grosses me out. The rare moments that I usually eat it (which is usually when I go out to eat with friends), it needs to be overcooked and as un-animally as possible. Secondly, because it's fattening and not good for you. And I don't feel like going there because I get yelled at by meat eaters when I start to explain why. Thirdly, because I love fruits and vegetables and beans and nuts and I can get everything I need from them. Fourthly, I was a fisherlady while I was growing up and have gutted many fish, which has left me incredibly grossed out by eating fish. Fifthly, the horrible conditions that a lot of these animals live in before they are slaughtered is absolutely horrifying. Oh and I grew up around a lot of farms so I know what goes on. And lastly, because I get everything I need from my diet and I'm probably significantly healthier than my crazy mother.

Why am I healthier? There's no cholesterol in my veg diet. I pay close attention to everything to make sure I'm getting all of the vitamins and whatnot that I need, and most meat eaters do not do that. And also because of something that is completely non-vegetarian related..

My mother's house is packed full of snacks. There are none in my house. I hardly ever buy snacks because if they are readily available... I eat them, and I don't want to eat them. Sugar is bad for you. I do eat healthier snacks now and then, like dried cornflakes and nuts and fruit and sometimes popcorn. If I really have a super big craving for sugar, I run down the street and buy a candy bar or whatever. I'm just very careful about my sugar consumption despite my incredibly big sweet tooth. I don't deprive myself when my body is like "GIVE ME SUGAR" but I don't keep it readily available.

Oh and my mother and father drink unhealthy things. They always have soda and super-sugary juices in their home. I only drink water and lemon water for the most part. (As well as coffee with soy milk or skim milk). Except when I'm at a bar, of course! Oh and I thought of something else... my parents consume way too much sodium.

I don't know. I know people hate when people are all "I'm vegetarian I'm vegetarian I'm vegetarian" so I keep that down to a minimum. Besides, I still eat a piece of meat once in a blue moon. However, vegetarians also hate when people are all "That's weird, you're weird, okay hippy, meat is the most amazing thing in the universe, I would eat a whole cow, would it offend you if I ate a whole cow in front of you?" Ugh. And that's why I don't bring it up to my mother. Because she is one of those annoying omnivores.

Moral of the story: Only talk about the weather with my mother.

Drinking.

Keely asked me to go to the casino with her and Troy. I sent her the following texts:

"Been working on my writing for three hours. I'm kind of weird today. Writing does this to me. I'm not so certain you'll be able to lure me out of my apartment."

"I'm walking around my apartment in boxers and an old t-shirt. The casino and Hooters seem too intense for such a blah Nicole."

"I just don't know if I can handle Troy and boobs and horses right now. I'm so blahhhh."

"Horse betting shenanigans seems so intense. I'm hating people right now."

And then she sent me a few texts that basically said "I'll be over to pick you up."

My response: "I guess I can observe and take free drinks from half naked girls."

So I went out with Keely and Troy and I'm so glad I did. You know those people who walk around and give out free drinks? Well, Troy tipped one pretty big and he kept bringing us free drinks. Then, at the end of his shift, he gave us everything that was left on his tray.

The best feeling I could ever have.

Routine has not been a friend of mine. My coworker told me her boring routine today. "Wake up, work, home, make bed, cook dinner, television, sleep." She asked me what my routine is. I hesitated.

"Uh... well, I go to work every day.. and, uh... I wake up on Saturday and drink coffee. Sometimes."

Half of the time I don't even wake up in my own bed anymore, but rather, I wake up on a friend's couch with my hair pointing every which way, still in my work clothes. I like it this way.

Yesterday I went to Kevin's house and I changed my mind three times on the way there. I called him each time. "Nevermind, I'm coming." "Nevermind, I'm not coming." "Nevermind, I'm coming." When I got there, he laughed at me. I told him that I'm like a bird, I'm very flighty. He said he can't handle all of my flip flopping all of the time. I laughed. I told him that's why I'm staying single for the time being.

I've been drinking every night again, whether it be a cold Pabst, a glass of wine, or a Captain & coke. I hope my liver doesn't mind much. I only drink socially, however. The problem is, I'm around people most of the time. The other day I was at a bar wandering by myself while my friends were somewhere. I don't know, we often part ways and find each other again.

My friend is in a band and he was playing at the bar that night. I happened to see him sitting by the bar alone, beer in hand. As always, I drunkenly rambled and he listened patiently with a disinterested look on his face. (I'm very good at reading social cues and knowing when someone wants me to leave, however I usually ignore it because I don't care). But then I struck gold.

 I mentioned my passion--writing.

His eyes lit up like the Fourth of July as I talked about how writing makes me feel. Also, how music makes me feel and how it inspires my writing because it makes my heart feel so good. With my hand pressed tightly against my heart, eyebrows sinking to a "sad puppy" look, I begged for understanding and he understood. He knows what that feels like. To love something SO much that your soul would just die if someone took it away from you. You would be a soulless body. I could see the understanding in his eyes. People like us live for our passions.

So what's been occurring in the life of Nicole? A balancing act. Writing, shows, dancing until the bar closes, home cooked dinner with friends, glasses of wine paired with discussions about sexuality and politics, waking up on comfy couches, hardly ever going home after work, but sometimes still going home after work, hanging up new paintings, thrift store adventures, yoga, collecting little Ganesh statues, excessive consumption of PBR, and flirting with pretty girls that I have no intention of pursuing.