Well damn,

I woke up at 7:00a friday and I don’t know why.  Stayed awake and busy friday through the night into the early bits of this morning.  I got home before I had to leave on a fishing trip.  Got sick, caught a sand bass, got really sick, slept, etc…  Now is on to Ish’s party.

If I were more aware and not as drained then I might be a bit more detailed…  But for now, I’ll keep it at – I need to sleep, eat, and not get sick.

Devin says he might come by, but I incredibly doubt it.  I’ll start to have hope in him if he does.  If not, I know that things do in fact stay the same.

So…  Sleep, Eat, Sleep.  I feel like a young child; just add driving.

Incoherent,
Kayla

Poetry,

What happened?

Weren’t we buddies?

Lonely,
Kayla

Workout,

I am looking forward to you.  Even if it doesn’t seem like it in the mornings when I wake up…  I enjoy you.  George’s cardio circuit thing kills me, but when we’re done…  Oh, I feel great.  I know I need to do even more on my own time, but for now…

I am going to miss this when I go to Alameda, but then again…  I’ll put it on myself to make sure I’m working on that health thing I need to work on.

I can do the first set of cardio with hardly stopping, the bicycle ab thing, and now my legs don’t fall during that one thing where he pushes my legs away as hard as possible.  If any of this made sense to anyone else other than my mom, I may share my excitement…  But I think the fact that I get excited about it is good for now.

If I can get to a 14 before the school year (I have about a month and a half), I’ll be really happy.  I wouldn’t mind being a 16, though it’s not what I really want, I know my limits and my health.  2 sizes in a month and a half.  I just really have to work on it.

I have no idea where I am going with this.  For a while, you were something I dreded, but did…  And now…  I really look forward to you.

Woke up way too early,
Kayla

Insomnia,

You’ve taken over a part of my mind, and my body, that I once had extreme control over. Giving into your demands and lures proves to myself how weak of a person I really am.

I understand maybe it’s on me to work on fixing things, making them right… Not thinking about them. Not thinking about him.

We had another argument today.

I want to feel what it is like to fall asleep. I want to wake up in the morning refreshed, renewed. I hate the come-down/hungover feeling that hits me the moment I wake up in that stuffy obnoxiously messy and crowded room.
You know, I used to drink calming teas and do 15 min of yoga before sleeping…

Maybe I’ll start doing that again.

Reluctantly,
Kayla

Talking Heads,

All I know is since I was a kid, I’ve been listening to your amazing collection of music. I find it to be indescribeable, simply because I do not feel I have the right to label you. When I was younger, I used to run around in my dad’s Misfit shirts singing “Psycho Killer” “Take Me To The River” and “Road To Nowhere” not quite understanding the concept of lyrics. Music. The artistry behind your collective works. This love affair subtley influenced my love for David Byrne. Not only as a singer, but as a musician and an artist.

As I grew up and became more aware of your music, I also became more aware of your lyrics. “Life During Wartime” was one of the many forces that pushed me towards politics.

Tonight while I was driving home, I was listening to the album “Little Creatures” lost in the entrancing instrumentals combined with the harmonious and ecclectic vocals of each song. It helped the tension slip away. Not any tension from previously held company, just simple road blocks that have been all the more prominent in my head since after park jam.

Right now I’m wathing Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, helping put together a collection of contemporary sources that can be examples to those unaware of the inner workings of the system, which in turn is helping me learn about this as well. It’s kind of cool. I guess. Though I’m not very cool, so maybe I’m making it uncool. I realized maybe looking into the Marxist Literary Theory, let alone my own paranoia and suspicions… I can see political subtext in anything. Except for Food Network. That will forever stay somewhat holy.

I’m rambling now. Look at what “Life During Wartime” has pushed me through.

Winding down,
Kayla

P.S. – I Love Luna Lovegood.

Park Jam,

I don’t know if I have ever really experienced such an amazing event in Long Beach like you.

The whole day, I kept changing my mind on whether or not I was going to go, and though I feel terrible about this, it was because of gas. I figured by the time I was ready everyone was going to be there, and I didn’t want to have anyone go out of there way to come get me.

When I got home from my morning in San Pedro with my dad, I went and made a Lemon cake with Vanilla frosting, something I figured that would be easy to transport, eat, and people would like it.

To make this short, and simple… Spent the afternoon and night with some amazing people, ate good food, played volley ball and soccer… Uhh, played some chess, listened to good music, drank some good wine and danced with everyone. Got hint of wine influenced feelings.

Then I ended my night with a hookah and friends.

Amazing Sunday. Park Jam… Thank you for everything. At one point, I think I forgot all my problems and tensions, let alone my reservations.

Still worn out,
Kayla

Sunday afternoon,

If I had written this earlier, I could have written this as “Sunday morning,” and started with Maroon 5 lyrics.  ‘Cause well…  I really like that song and it’s my guilty pleasure.  I used to listen to this when I would get home from Devin’s on a Sunday morning as I was showering or making breakfast.

“ Sunday morning rain is falling
Steal some covers share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do
And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if I knew
That someday it would lead me back to you
That someday it would lead me back to you

That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I never want to leave

Fingers trace your every outline
Paint a picture with my hands
Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm
Change the weather still together when it ends

That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I never want to leave

But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do
Sunday morning rain is falling and I’m calling out to you
Singing someday it’ll bring me back to you
Find a way to bring myself back home to you

And you may not know
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning”

Yeah.  Corny.  Terribly corny.  Though not all of it applies, the major points do.  But yet…  If I could create the perfect song about Sunday afternoons, it might happen to be about today.
Spending my morning driving through beaches and fishing piers, spending time in a place, one city over that seems so far away from everything back home.  Surrounding and throwing myself into crowds of people I do not know, nor understand, and inevitably head home, feeling fulfilled and full.  xD

Okay maybe I wouldn’t, but today was pretty cool.  And now I’m baking a Lemon cake with Vanilla frosting for Park Jam.

S.A. – You’re simple.  Relaxing (sometimes), and can play the perfect lead into a hectic week.  And this coming week will be most crazy.  I need to clean and start packing for Alameda/Santa Rosa.  Debate if I’m bringing my computer, because while I would love to bring it, it is becoming quite the hassle, (but I’m bringing 5 days worth of stuff, plus all my rinses for my mouth situation).

I’m getting off track…  This is about you.  I go from Sunday morning, usually tired – hungover – exhausted at church to the time when I can pass out on the couch, or go out to try and escape the heat.  I’m given a few hours to myself before meetings, kickbacks, or family dinners, and it’s quite nice to have that time and luxury.  Once I get a job, I’ll lose that.

For now, I’ll enjoy you and not take you for granted as I did before.

Thankful for the breeze,
Kayla

Heart,

I’ve let you down, time and time again.  We’ve gone from abuse to neglect to the simply-stupid games they played…  But we’ve played them too.

I know you hurt today, but I think you’re hoping and wanting blindly.  It’s completely fine to feel something for someone, especially for their talent…  And this time it’s their poetry.  Their intensity, passion, and performance.  Every hug has the grip of a bear and the power and aggression that you crave.  I get it.  I really do.

We’ll figure something out.  I’m working on it.

You just miss knowing that there is someone thinking about you before they fall asleep at night.  Someone who would simply tell you that they’re thinking about you.  Someone you inspire.

That’s how you are, why wouldn’t you want the same from someone with an equivalent genuine passion?

Just…

Don’t settle.

Tired,
Kayla

Patience,

You’re worn thin.

Everything going to be ok?  It doesn’t seem like it will…  Hopefully I don’t receive any backlash.

Upset,
Kayla

CJ,

I hope you understand.  I mean, I really didn’t want to come off badly, but how am I supposed to take it when someone who doesn’t understand me – and hardly knows me – wants to take my poetry and add it to music that is not only unrefined, but something I don’t like.  It’s nothing against you necessarily.  Nothing against you as a person.  Just your taste in musical style, let alone your approach to the situation.  You don’t just IM someone and say “Hey can you email your poem, I’m going to sing it.”  There are steps to take before taking another artist’s work into your hands and interpreting it.

You ask when the poem was written, what inspired it, what it meant to them…  There are preliminary actions to this end result you were looking for.  I’m not one for following structure like this, but with this particular piece…  A piece about my feet and how they’ve taken me through my life – let alone how I create with them because of their strength and power.  Please understand if I’m hesitant to let you reshape it to music that wouldn’t fit, keys that shouldn’t be, and chords that know not what they are harming.

I hate to sound like such a bitch, but it’s my art.  And it’s all I have not only to myself, but to my name.

Besides, you’re the person that just listens to something repeatedly and copies it line by line.  By you asking so nonchalantly, you’re not only underestimating the piece itself (through your approach) I can also have the right to assume you’ve already copied it down and tweaked it.

Besides, the poem is on my myspace along with the audio.  Use your brain please.

Annoyed,
Kayla