light bulb

so today. I was browsing books to bring on my awesome trip to Italy. There is where I decided to expand on my idea of writing my version of other people's titles. I get so disappointed that everyone else is using up these great titles for shitty books. That's when the light bulb struck, instead of whining... well instead of whining all the time... i will dedicate my blog to writing short versions of what I think certain books should be about. yay for me.

OK, so today's book: "Letters to My Mother" by BarbKarg (and i just looked that up on amazon and laughed to myself, so i condone laughing out loud to her name... it rhymes.. oh so silly is that name) When I picked up the book I found it was a sappy memoir containing babble about motherhood and junk. LAME. so, this is what my little brain thought...

August 3 -
Dear Mother,
Thank you for sending yet another package that contains "Little Mirmaid" magnets and random bars of chocolate. Although it was completely out of left field I did have fun dressing Ariel in different outfits. However, I did not appreciate the three phone calls in one hour to let me know that the dog is still sleeping on the couch snoring. He does that. On that note, you do not need to call me ever other hour to let me know he is licking himself on the couch and you "hate him." I am still dating who you refer to as "oh yeah, that guy." I wish you would take the time to know him, instead of constantly judging. You know you did teach me when I was eight that everyone should be given a chance, maybe next time you teach a child that lesson you should mention the art major boyfriend clause. Well, time to me to go to that job that I hate because I work my ass off and don't get paid enough, and yes, I will stay possitive because I know I am just starting out.
Love you and promise to visit soon,
daughter

September 15 -
Mom,
Thank you for the card that sings "Don't worry, Be happy." It was... great. I am sorry you felt my previous letter was "drenched in melo-dramatic undertones that should have been used up in my teenage years," I'll try better. Also, I am really sick of you calling the guy I'm dating a good way to waste my time. Its been a few months now, just at the very least, fake happy for me. Work is going. I'm basically miserable. I just work so hard for them. Oh well. I did like you're rendition of psychotherapy the other day. I am sure it is as easy as watching a television special to become an expert on psychotropic drugs. Prescribe away mom. Well, I love you.
daughter

September 20-
Mom,
Fine. You were right about him. Please ignore the snot stains on the paper.
daughter.

October 6 -
Mom,
You are so overbearing. You call me three times a day to tell me the most pointless things ever. You never listen. You still, despite whatever knowledge I have gained over the years, think you know everything. Fine, you do. You're so smart. Whatever. At least I graduated college, and am not settling on being a house-wife forever. I'm living. I feel. You know I've experienced things you don't even know about. You judge everyone, secretly or not, just to ignore what how you feel. I'm just fend up with the over-control you still want to hold on to. And I know you "told me so" and that since he dumped me for the receptionist at his job I shouldn't have gone away with him for that weekend just to have him sleep in that receptionist bedroom the second night. The first night he was really sweet, and I've progressed past him. So I don't need your pity judgment. Maybe you should just accept that I'm never going to be as perfect as you obviously are.
daughter

October 7 -
Mom,
I AM SO SORRY. I didn't mean the things I said. You are a strong woman who means well. I was just emotional. You are so brave and I love you. I just get frustrated sometimes... anyway there is no excuse. Please do not hate me.
daughter

p.s. also, i feel really bad for asking but i don't think i'll be able to pay all of my bills. could you please send me some money?? And I can't wait to see you this coming weekend.

Arms open, saying what

First of all I just walked into my door. This event probably happens at least once, if not twice, everyday for me. Don't fear, I'm questioning my own intelligence at this point.

So this is what I'm thinking. Maybe it'll be interesting, I'm sure they're will be some funny lines in it, but basically I'm just trying to get out the axiety that prevents me from sleeping. Sleeping and pooping as a matter of fact. I can promise this however, I will never take my blog as seriously as people that I have gotten the chance to review. I use templates. I doubt, unless I'm really bored, I will ever make huge prolonged declorations about gobbly-guck. I write what I want, because I can.
And for that today I'm bound by my worries. This twenty-something qwest is really wearing. And even though I know most of my peers cicrle around me with this issue, everyone's is different. Mine is this whole idea of a future. After being thrown violently off the high-horse that comes with a bachlors, I've found my pessimism to be extereme. I don't know where to start. I don't know which idea or dream to shoot for. And I try to take it one day at a time, but that is like asking a horse not to smell like poop. And horses L.O.V.E. to smell like poop. I guess I need a mentor, someone to come in and lift me back on my feet. I'm guessing it can't be one of my peers due to the conflict of intrest. Survival of the fitest.
I think I need to coin a term for the early to late twenty confusion. Fuck quater life crisis. Don't like it, never will. brb... going to a dictionary. OK after a few minuets of thinking. I'm not creative enough. at least not right now. if anyone can think of it please fill me in.

Beside not knowing perfessionally what awaits (if anything) this moving thing is really stressing me out. I don't know what's making it worse, moving in with my bf, or having to wait all these months for it to happen. I just have this feeling that something bad is going to happen and its not going to work out. I feel like maybe I want it and he doesn't. I feel like I'm going to be stuck out there without him. That I'm going to have to put all this money and energy into it and he's not going to care. I just feel disaster. And it's hard to tell him this, as much as it's hard to change my mind on how I feel. I just want a positive sign to happen to let me know.

that is drool from my mouth

it takes me a while to write on here because i always am thinking that i want any reader to truly enjoy what they're reading while avoiding their jobs or browsing while watching tv. In my head, I envision nothing but people laughing and praising my whit, then i have to admit to myself that no one reads this and i can write what i want because my roommate will read anything.

so here is my babble.

I am sick of feeling lost. My defeatist melodrama is even starting to bug me. But I can't shake it. I don't have a career to define myself in. I don't even know what to pursue. People never seem to be able to capture the true chaos that is your twenties. No one wants to spoil the joy of working hard and not getting paid enough. To ruin the excitement of opening not just your first but your tenth or eleventh credit card bill that portrays figures of numbers that you wish your hourly wage was. Destroying the feeling that even though you are working, you feel like a ghost to your younger self, that you did sell your soul for the sake of your career. Yuppie brat.

I think one of the most irritating things about it is having to constantly pretend to be a grown up. Sure legally I can vote, buy porn, cigarettes, beer, own a home... blah blah... but I still call my mom when any type of decision needs to be made. You are responsible without feeling accomplished. Although "you" bought your couch, it was your parents who paid your rent for the next two months because of it. Despite "you" deciding to date someone, you still wonder why anyone would want to be with you or how to know if it'll work out. The perks of being fake.

As you see these things haunt me. Just like jelly beans.

I guess the truth is, I am growing up. But I keep protesting and stating what really sucks about it, because that is my promise to my fan. (by fan I me the one above me since its the one having to listen to all kinds of rants. got you linguistics style.) I know there is joy in this process however. For instance, I was asked to move in with my boyfriend. Something I've wanted to do since knowing what boyfriends were. I mean how awesome is it to be able to live with one of your best friends you get to make out with. (leah, sorry we never made out. i like dudes.) But here I am. Being a grown up. Moving in like a big kid, in my big kid pants, with my big kid boyfriend, and yet all I can think about is all the awful things that can come of it. Don't get me wrong I love that darn kid, and I am so excited to share my bathroom mirror with him (the time split being 70-30) Its just the grown part of me that is being scared. With all those years of voting-ish, but definitely buying porn and beer I did grow and learn things. Those things left scars and those scars leave the sweet taste of bitter. And despite all excitement, fear arises and portrays in the form pure anxiety. And then the child part comes back and says that the grown up fear is that if we don't move soon he'll never end up doing it. Sigh.

Look kid and adult in brain, I don't like either of you and you guys definitely don't like me but we all have to get along somehow.

my rythms

i had a rap but i forgot it. in my head it was pretty awesome and even had a beat in my head to match... wait... it's coming back...

my name is kinicky,
i like pizza,
you're not sticky,
that's why i like you.

it's not perfect but it is awesome.

Perks of wearing pants

As I am starting to see it, being in your 20s is like loosing your virginity in high school with your first boyfriend. Despite any hesitation, in your mind you are ready for it. You want to do it. Well you wanted to do it enough that a little coercetion is just as good of a reason. So there you are in the basement, in his room with the smell of masterbation and sweat which happens to be the complete opposite of what you had always anticipated. In that moment you figure everything can't be perfectly planned and tell yourself this is as you saw it all along. As it happens you feel uncomfortable and in a little pain, but you shine through. You are a trooper aren't you? When it ends after 7 minuets, you lie there feeling strangely empty and wondering what was ever supposed to be so wonderful about it. Then when he looks over at you so fulfilled, you muster up a smile and a fake look of relief and that moment is when you convience yourself that you liked it. Then when ever a friend asks, you lie and say that it was pretty good and are looking forward to the next time, which only then perpetuates the myth of loosing it to your high school boyfriend. Rediculous.

Now in your 20's, instead of the dream job, great sex, busy schedules and the money that we were all lead to believe comes of the end of the rope called a bachalors degree we sit bashed and empty from the wind of being someone's assistant or better yet still being the smartest waitress at the Waffle House. Little did you know that one night you had with your steady-until-he-left-for-college-and-cheated-on-you-with-the-first-hot-chick boyfriend you spend 10 years feeling just as empty as you did that one night. it's basically awsome.