Opening My Mouth...

Dear Kelly,

I am not in a good place. I feel so entirely fucked up right now, it's really hard for me to even consider a starting point. I have nof rame of reference for anything anymore. I am full of feelings. Sooo many feelings. So much of it. All at once. And right now, what I am feeling is not good at all.

I don't know how to start. But this is me trying. Bear with me.

I almost hate doing this. I have tried to write this so many times and the words never come out right, but maybe that's part of the problem. I just give up before even trying to put it all down because I feel it's wrong. So wrong.

I feel selfish for writing this. I feel selfish for what I am about to do because let's face it, it IS selfish.

I should ask for help. I guess that is what I am trying to do. Reach out. To someone.

But let's face it, I've fucked everything up. I've been so self destructive and I've pushed so many people so very far away. I've pushed MYSELF away. I don't know why. I don't know how to explain it. I need to think more about it or maybe write more about it or at least try. I don't know anymore. I don't know WHAT is good for me.

Look, I want to apologize. Above all else I feel everyone I know deserves a big gigantic apology from me for my behavior... for all of the shit I have put them through.

You especially. Jesus. I didn't even know you were graduating, and I wanted to be there and have a special gift all made (and not lost in the disaster zone I call a room...). And I didn't even know. And now it's come and gone. And we don't talk anymore and it has been my turn to write in here for the longest time, but I have not written anything. Nothing!

I've tried to write this, or something like this, but everytime I finish I get to the "submit" button and chicken out... I am so afraid I'll do that again this time...

I'm promising right here and now that I will at least hit enter. I mean... No. No, I won't delete it afterwards either. I am just going to let this stay.

But like I said I feel so god damned selfish. And I am. Jesus.

I have been so down and it's awful... Mainly because when I get like this, this upset or bad or self destructive or whatever, I feel like I should call someone. but then I think of who I could call, someone who I can talk to, who wouldn't feel burdened, but everyone I know that fits this description is mad at me... At least, I see it that way. I'm afraid that even the people I know I should be able to call wouldn't want to hear it. And even if they did, it would be a pity thing. And I don't want anybody to feel like I'm guilt tripping them or unloading on them or using them as a tissue or whatever.

Jesus. Like I said, I don't know what I want because I have to fucking frame of reference. I don't even know how this happened... I guess it was alot of things all at once. Maybe that and a mix of things I had put off or just bottled up. But God... I wish I knew what it was I was really trying to say. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. And I hate this.

I've been getting these really strong, really terrible urges lately and they won't stop. No matter how much I try to distract myself or try to do things to cheer myself up or avoid it... It always comes back. Late at night, alone in my bed. This feeling begins in the pit of my stomach and eats away at me. It feels like an emotional ulser. Fuck...

I'm in a bad place. I've dug myself into this hole and maybe it's time I start calling for help. Maybe it's time I swallow my pride and my fears and just open my throat and let something out...

I don't know. I wouldn't blame anyone if they just let me stay down here for the rest of my life. And in a way, I feel like I dug the hole, I should be the one to get me out... You know? I mean, what right do I have to even think about asking for help? That's so stupid! I'm nineteen for God's sake. I should be able to fix this.

But I'm afraid. I don't know if I can trust myself anymore.

I hate this.

I wish I had something better to write, I wish I could write wonderful happy congrats things about your graduation and whatnot, but it it so hard to see those things right now. That's so selfish, I know. Yes. I am repeating myself.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know what to say.

Here I am. Opening my mouth and praying to I don't know what that whatever noise comes out is loud enough and audible enough to make SOMETHING happen...

Something...

I love you so much. I miss you. I'm sorry.

-Alee

I don't know these people

Alee,

Do you know who these people are? Because I have no idea.

I took this picture at the Butterfly Exhibit at the Natural Science Museum. We were coming around this curve near this random water fall and there they were. I figured since they were posing for a picture anyway I could take their picture as well. So I did. And like it.

I like the light in this picture. And that the family actually looks like they like each other. But who knows, they may be really good at pretending.

I don't really know what the point is. Maybe it's that I'm ready to go back to RenFest so I can take pictures of random strangers and post them on the internet. I'm getting a shot of the Storm Trooper this year (I knew he existed!).

~Kelly

circus

Alee,

Britney Spears once wisely said, "There are only two types of people in world/The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe". And while her punctuation may be appalling, she is mainly correct.

On Friday night we went to Sherlocks to see the Space Rockers. From what I can tell, they are basically two types of people in the world: the ones that make fools of themselves and the ones who watch and laugh.

Basically the premise is that they are superheroes from outer space sent to earth to give us rock. It's silly and hilarious. And not rock at all, but oh well.

The best part is the fans. There are people taking pictures with them during breaks and, my personal favorite, people standing in front of the stage, finger in the air, looking at the singer like he is Steven Tyler. That's when I pulled out the camera.

The blue blob in the picture above is the dancing guy who gets tired and has to stop. He likes to dance alone and bring back moves from the 80s. Only he can't quite remember them.

Here is is sitting. I think he was tired again:

I'm kind of in love with this picture and the strange sadness of it all. I also like the normalcy of the band standing around on the stage during the break, except they are wearing superhero from outer space costumes.

I got this idea for a story about the Space Rockers and I'm going write it soon.

One for the road:

Excuse me while I wave my towel around to the music. What?

~Kelly

So Much.

Kelly,

I have way too much to tell you. I'm upset today, and it has not been a very good week, and the weather is not helping, and I want to delete the story I wrote you and write a new and better one because that one is far too long and silly anyways.

Okay.
Now I'm going to speak with breaths in between my sentences.

I miss you! And I'm going to surprise you soon. Very soon. I hope you're excited.

I am!
It's weird being on my own... At this point in my life, there is just too much to wrap up into one blog.

On a completely different note, here's a picture I took that I really like;

It reminds me of an old microphone. I titled it "Center Stage at the Midnight Jazz Cafe."

I'm really into photography lately, and particularly darker, more abstract stuff right now at least. But I think I probably need to take more pictures like this;

Because this one is happy and makes me want to smile. Sometimes, I think it is harder to really make something substantially meaningful out of a smile or something light than a frown or something dark. But I think that's why I like this picture so much.

Anyways.

Write on!

-Alee

I Wrote You a Story.

Kelly,

I wrote you a story.
It's a bit long, but it's an easy read, I promise. :)
It goes like this:

Once upon a time, there was a little girl in a little red dress.
Most days, she liked to play and frolic just like other little girls of her age, but some days the little girl was quite forlorn.
Once upon the same exact time, there was a little lady who had little feet and liked to wear shoes that didn't match the rest of her outfit.
Most days, the lady didn't make it out of the stacks before sunset because she was a Librarian, and a very thourough one at that.

One day, the little girl found herself quite forlorn and feeling very sad and alone.
She was waiting for her Mother to pick her up from the Library and her Mother had more important things to do. As the little girl waited on the benches in the parking lot thinking about how scary it got after the sun set, a traveling clown passed her by. He did not speak, and neither did she.
The clown had a big, blue, gloopy tear painted on his face.
The girl had real tears running down her face.
They were both sad, but the clown had something the little girl in the red dress didn't. This traveling clown happened to have helium and balloons. He made a smile appear on his face, and he pointed to the heavens as if to say, "Eureka!"
Then, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a bright red floppy balloon. He wiped the real tear from the little girl's cheek and inflated the balloon.
She sniffled and wiped her nose on her little red sleeve. He gave her the balloon.
The little girl tried to make a smile appear on her face, but it was very hard because she was very sad and her tears were very real. The clown saw this and felt his heart droop. He pat the little girl on the head and honked his big red nose at her and waved goodbye with a big, blue, gloopy tear running down his cheek.

On this very same day, the lady Librarian had managed to finish all of her work early. She was the happiest lady in the world at that moment.
She breathed a sigh of relief, and her little mismatched shoes clicked and clacked as she made her way triumphantly down the hall and out the doors of the Library. She didn't even have to try to make a smile appear on her face.
As she was going to her little red car, she looked at the little girl in the red dress with the red balloon on the benches in the parking lot. She saw tears in the little girls eyes. Her smile faded when she saw this. She tried to make a smile appear on her face again, but it was hard because the little girl was so very sad.
The little lady Librarian did not know what to do.
She looked into the little girl's watery eyes, and when she realized those watery eyes were looking right back, she just waved to the little girl. The little girl waved back with her free hand.
The Librarian could do nothing but turn and head to her little red car.
A real tear was forming in the corners of both eyes.
The little librarian was getting into her car, when she thought out loud to herself for no particular reason at all,
"When I have a daughter, I'm going to dress her in little red dresses all the time. And I'm going to give her balloons. And I'm going to wipe her tears away..."
The librarian got into her car and wiped away a tear from both of her cheeks.
She looked at the little girl.
The little girl looked back.
They waved, and the librarian left.

The End.

It's sad, and it's waaay too long, but I feel like it's right. And I hope you liked it, despite all the gloopy tear bits.
I miss you, Lady.

Alee

P.S.
You+Me+Bowling=SOON.

I am in love

Alee,

I just wanted you to know that I am in love with my new Kindle. I am knitting it a cover. It will be pretty. I am about halfway there...

When it is finished it will have a little green stripe at the top, a green button loop, a vintage mother of pearl button, and an embroidered leaf (or something else amazing) on one of the bottom corners.

It will be my knitted design debut.

~Kelly

Svedlahna.

Kelly,

This is a picture of my brother and me. This is what I do when I procrastinate.

Sometimes, when we are both bored and getting along, we like to take silly pictures and make silly videos. Yesterday, I put a wig on because I dressed up like a mime for some photography artwork I was working on. The wig was left out after I'd finished, and Julian came by and put it on. Svedlahna was born. He then put on sunglasses, a snap-button hippie shirt, a tape measure, and grabbed some other props. We made silly videos of me interviewing the international Haute Couture fashion designer Svedlahna. And we took silly pictures.

When we're done, we edit the pictures and save them as the background on the laptop, that way, the next time Mom uses the computer, she has a new portrait of her two beautiful children waiting there as a surprise.

I like these times. It's really fun to be goofy with my brother and it's even better when I randomly find funny photos and videos like these that we'd made years ago that I forgot about.

I realized the other day that you're a big sister too.
I thought you'd like this.

Alee

P.S.

One for the road.

bacon shirt

Alee,

When I was procrastinating on Facebook earlier, I was advertised this:

And I thought, I know someone who needs this t-shirt. Except you really don't because you don't need to wear about bacon. You just need to eat about bacon.

If you want the shirt, click the picture to take you to the place to purchase.

The other day I compared myself to bacon. I said, "No, I didn't burn, just got a little crispy around the edges. Like good bacon." I think I may be insane.

But she understood what I meant.

Now I want bacon. When I was in Mexico I had The Most Amazing Bacon, Lettuce, Avocado, and Tomato Sandwich. Ever. It was so good, I had it three times. The bacon was perfectly crispy. The bread was awesome. I could have died of sheer happiness.

You are jealous. You want bacon. I can tell.

Kelly

I Do Not Have a Drinking Problem...

I have a pouring problem.

Kelly,
You shared something with me that says something about you, now I'm sharing something with you that says something about me.
I was pouring alot today.

Whenever you pour anything into something from a big container such as a gallon of milk or tea, or a jug of water, the best way to go about doing it is to just quickly tip the entire container over so that there is not a stream of liquid running down it's side. I know this. But I cannot manage to make myself do it.

Whenever Alee Groce pours anything, the likes to take her time, and carefully inch her way into tipping the container over. She habitually takes forever with this tipping bit, and every time she ends up tipping it over just enough so that liquid spills onto her feet or the counter.

It's like, even though I know it will spill, I can't manage to bring myself to hurry up and just dunk out the liquid. Sometimes you just have to pour things directly, or they'll spill, and you'll make a mess. I hate that.

I think I know what that says about me.

-Alee

okapi

Alee,

Do you know what this is? It look like a cross between a horse and a zebra. But it's not. It's an okapi, a forest giraffe. In the wild they live in the forest and eat vegetation with crazy tongues like giraffes. 

Do you see something wrong with this picture? Can you spot it? Maybe not because there isn't much more than the okapi in this picture. 

There are hardly any trees in this habitat. How can an okapi, a forest giraffe, be happy in a tree-less environment? This makes me very sad. 

But you know what's even worse?  This is my favorite exhibit at the zoo. I could stand there for hours staring at that sad okapi. 

I think it's that though. I feel it's sadness. I feel the sadness while standing there among all the ignorant people who are thrilled to see a forest giraffe in person.

There you go. You showed me one of your favorite places. This is one of mine. I wonder what that says about me.

~Kelly

I Love This Place.

The band is mingling amongst us, indistinguishable from their audience at present. There are benches and tables that have been here since before we were born. Everything wooden has shrunken and swollen, and time has erased any horizontal uniformity this wood once possesed. It's Summertime in Texas, and the ancient, rusty fans are working hard to shelter us from the sweltering heat. The neon signs create an ambiance of gritty Southern pride, advertising Beer, Cowboy hats, and anything authentically Lone Star worthy.

There are lonesome stragglers nursing beer bottles that reflect and distort the lights from the signs. There are happy couples getting happier and more affectionate the more they drink. There are ashtrays full to the brim with discarded butts, and groups of smokers in clumps of thick, happy hazes. There are parents with young kids being raised on good music. There are cowboy hats, torn jeans, and tank tops wherever you look. In one shady corner, there is a pool game lit up from a overhead light casting a greenish glow that's muted by grey smoke. The dance hall is thick with Southern twang and smiles.

I sit with my party at one of the long tables on one of the slanted wooden benches, watching. Photographing. Listening. Smelling. Laughing. Loving. Treasuring.

The tables all have carvings in them that are highlighted by the neon glow. I sit and stare at the table and realize that every one of these markings is indistinguisable. Even if there were dates on this table, I'd not be able to make them out. I sit and I wonder how many people have sat right where my butt is planted. How many different kinds of people. Whether they were one of the stragglers, the pool aces, the smokers, the cowboys, the happy spouses, the children, the old ones, the band members, the locals, the tourists, the teens, the motorcyclists, the out of towners, the history makers.

In a way, you could say it was sad that they all left their marks only to become worn and carved over throughout the years. But, I don't think so. Even if a mark is indistinguishable, it is still prominent as long as you know it's there. As long as you can see it bending the light, or feel it with your fingertips, or trace it with your fingernail, it is still a mark.

I wonder if things were different when these marks were made, but something tells me things in this dance hall have always been exactly the same. The clothes may have been a bit different at one time, and the hair styles may have changed, but the feeling I get now tells me that it's here to stay. The smiles on everyones' faces tells me that this humble hall has always served the same purpose, and has an eternal ability to bring people together in a beautiful way.

I feel connected here in Gruene Hall. I feel as though I have found a timeless treasure. I feel closer to the past, present and future, and for that, I love this place.

-Alee

a crazy beginning

Alee,

I know you are worried about losing touch. This is my gift to you. 

A way to stay in touch. 

And the beginning of an illustrious career as a crazy artist-type person.

Or maybe just a crazy-type person.

Tag, you're it,

Kelly